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THE  LIBRARY 

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OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


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(Sue  p.  ii3 
"I     liKNT    DOWN    ALSO,    IIAI.K    K  MC  K  L I N  O     15Y    IlKlt    SlUK  " 


THE 


DARK  O'  THE  MOON 


a  Btioti 


by 
S.   R.  CROCKETT 

author  of  "the  red  axe  "  "kit  kennedy' 
"the  gray  man"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATED 


HARPER    &   BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON 
1903 


Copyright,  igoi,  by  S.  R.  Crockett. 

j4lt  rights  reserved. 

Published  March,  1902. 


CHAP. 


C  3  dc^ 
CONTENTS 


PAOE 


I.  The  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon 1 

II.  Hector  Faa's  Curse 7 

III.  Joyce  Faa 15 

IV.  Silver  Sand— The  Matter  of  the  Wager     .    .  21 

V.  The  Inn  of  Tarkirra 28 

VI.  The  Doom  op  the  Gaugers 35 

VII.  The  Head  op  the  House 40 

VIII.  The  Levellers  in  Council 45 

IX.  Enter  Silver  Sand 53 

X.  A  Captain  op  Rebels 58 

XI.  Paths  Perilous 66 

XII.  The  Kiss  Paid  For 73 

XIII.  Joyce  Faa  Brings  Me  Home 77 

XIV.  The  Muster  of  Rascarrel 83 

XV.  The  Angers  op  Eppie 92 

XVI.  May  Mischief  Contrives 98 

XVII.  In  Which  I  Make  a  Poor  Appearance  ....  104 

XVIII.  I  Decide  That  I  Am  No  Hero 115 

XIX.  The  Stable-Caverns 123 

XX.  Joyce  Loves  Me 133 

XXI.  I  Love  Joyce 141 

XXII.  The  Night  Journey 147 

XXIII.  Mat  Mischief  Makes  Some 155 

XXIV.  Love  and  Sylvia 160 

XXV.  Jasper  Jamie  Plays  "  Cross  tig  " 169 

XXVI.  The  Fire  of  God 179 

iii 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XXVII.  Devil's  Work    ....-- 185 

XXVIII.  The  Manse  of  Minnigaff 192 

XXIX.  The  Provost's  Spirits 208 

XXX.  A  Masterful  Man 218 

XXXI.  The  Son  of  a  King 227 

XXXII.  A  Dereliction  of  Duty 234 

XXXIII.  The  Levellers  to  the  Rescue 241 

XXXIV.  Austin  Tredennis,  Mutineer 248 

XXXV.  Marion  Discharges  Her  Debt 260 

XXXVI.  By  the  Buckland  Burn 267 

XXXVII.  Morn  on  Rathan 272 

XXXVIII.  The  Aumry  of  the  Isle 279 

XXXIX.  Eppie  Tamson,  Counsellor  and  Autocrat.     .  286 
XL.  The  Hanging  of  Harry  Folwart     ....  299 

XLI.  One  Hour  of  Love 311 

XLII.  Mentioned  in  Despatches 318 

XLIII.  Cattle-Dealer  and  Spy 326 

XLIV.  The  Camp  in  Duchrae  Wood 337 

XLV.  The  Oldest  Way  of  Wooing  in  the  World  .  348 

XLVI.  Silver  Sand's  Whisper 355 

XLVII.  A  Noise  in  the  Camp 360 

XLVIII.  The  Minister  of  Balmaghie 366 

XLIX.  The  Round  Tower  of  Appleyard     ....  372 

L.  The  Wife  op  Boanerges       382 

LI.  High  Contracting  Parties 391 

LIT,  Two  Soldiers  op  Two  Kingdoms 400 

LIII.  The  Storming  of  the  Camp 410 

LIV.  The  Bursting  of  a  Shell 422 

LV.  Tredennis's  Way  op  Marriage 430 

LVI.  The  Chief  Saves  the  Clan 438 

LVII.  Addend  and  Complement 451 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"l  BENT  DOWN  ALSO,  HALF  KNEELING  BY  HER  SIDE"  Frontispiece 
"HECTOR     FAA     TORE    THE    EPAULET     OFF     BY     SHEER 

STRENGTH  "    .      .  Facing  p.      38 

"'OH,   max!'    SHE   CRIED,  FOR    THE    FIRST    TIME   USING 

THE   SHORTER   NAME" "  70 

"I    SAW    A    MAN    KNEELING,    LIKE    DANIEL,    WITH     HIS 

FACE  TO  THE  EAST" , "  392 


THE  DARK   0'  THE  MOON 


THE     SHIEL    OF     THE     DUNGEON 

AT  the  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon  of  Buchan — a  strange 
-l\.  place,  half  natural  cavern,  the  rest  a  rickle  of  rude 
masonry  plastered  like  a  swallow's  nest  on  the  face  of  the 
cliff  among  the  wildest  of  southern  hills — this  story  begins. 
The  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon  was,  indeed,  a  fitting  dwelling- 
place  for  Hector  Faa  and  his  folk. 

Ever  since  the  first  days  of  the  Great  Eiding  and  the 
death  of  so  many  of  that  wild  confederacy  in  the  Pit  of 
Sheep  beneath  Craignairny,  the  Faas  and  other  male- 
factors had  been  scattered  north,  east,  and  south.  And  now 
of  them  all  only  the  chief,  Hector,  remained,  daily  risking 
death  to  abide  among  his  native  fastnesses,  where,  save 
for  a  few  faithful  tatterdemalions,  he  dwelt  lonely  as  Cain 
in  the  Land  of  Nod,  in  the  days  ere  yet  he  gat  him  a  wife. 

Thither  we  must  go  that  we  may  begin  to  tell  the  strange 
history  of  these  latter  days,  as  strange  and  memorable  as 
any  that  went  before — the  sad  yet  laughaljle  rebellion  of 
our  poor  cottier  folk,  which  few  outside  the  bounds  of  Gal- 
loway have  even  heard  of;  the  freaks  of  Free-traders  in 
the  Solway  passage,  the  deeds  of  outlaw  Hector  and  his 

1 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

kin  among  the  cave  dwellings  of  the  Dungeon  of  Buchan, 
together  with  the  marvellous  end  made  by  my  father's 
friend,  commonly  called  Silver  Sand,  but  of  right  and  title 
"  Lord  and  Earl  of  Little  Egypt,"  and  King  of  all  the  wild 
folk  called  Gypsies  in  this  realm  of  Scotland. 

There  was  a  lass  looking  out  of  the  four-square  aperture 
which  served  the  Shiel  of  the  Dil^geon  for  a  window.  In 
bad  weather  this  was  closed  with  a  painted  board,  and  in 
times  of  danger  a  green  bough  or  a  sod  from  the  hill-side 
screened  it.  But  now  it  stood  open,  and,  as  the  light  of 
the  evening  sun  slanted  along  the  precipice  front,  the  head 
of  a  young  girl  was  set  in  it  as  a  picture  is  set  in  a  dark 
frame. 

It  was  the  face  of  Joyce  Faa,  watching  from  her  rock 
fortress  for  her  father's  return — the  eaglet  spying  for  the 
eagle's  homecoming  with  the  lamb  in  his  talons.  This  is 
the  picture  of  the  outlaw's  daughter  as  she  looked  in  the 
gloaming  of  that  summer  day,  framed  in  yonder  little 
square  of  blackness  high  up  on  the  "  gairy  "  side. 

Hair  raven-black,  but  light  as  hill-mist,  swept  back  from 
a  broad,  low  brow.  Her  face,  full  oval,  yet  clearly  cut, 
eyes  a  wonder  of  blackness,  with  sparks  of  passionate  fire 
shifting  and  passing  in  them,  angers,  defiances,  relentinj^, 
passionate  April  weepings,' all  to  be  dried  up  in  the  quick 
sunshine  of  her  smile. 

So  at  least  the  matter  is  reported.  The  writer  of  this 
chronicle  cannot  compass  this  vein  continuously,  being  now 
somewhat  too  old  and  having  also  a  kindly  consideration 
for  the  good-will  of ^^ reader.  But  in  so  far  as  it  de- 
scribes Joyce  Faa,  ^^^ftlaw's  maid,  it  is  doubtless  ac- 
curate enough,  bcin^HP^'ords  of  a  young  man  in  love,  set 
down  iipon  paper  nf^ii^'oars  ago  when  these  things  hap- 
pened. For  love,  being  nie  great  revealer,  no  woman  should 
be  described  save  by  the  man  who  loves  her. 

Joyce  Faa  sat,  therefore,  by  the  window,  the  house-place 

2 


THE     SHIEL     OF    THE     DUNGEO:^^ 

all  a-dnsk  behind  her,  the  smoky  walls  flickering  with  the 
little  leaping  flames  from  the  hearth,  where  an  old  woman 
crouched,  chimnering  to  herself  and  feeding  the  fire  with 
rosin  knots  and  roots  of  heather.  Before  the  girl's  eyes 
the  sunset  ran  from  slaty  gray  overhead  to  smoky  orange, 
where  it  lingered  along  the  puxgling  hill  ledges  westward 
beyond  Loch  IMoan. ,         .      ,    '  - 

But  a  voice  broke  Mrsmy  upon  the  girl's  reverie. 

"On  the  Eig  o'  the  Jarkness  three  times  the  tod  has 
cried  !"  it  said.  "  Ha,  ha  !  Hark  to  Auld  Hoodie  up  amang 
the  clints  o'  the  Dungeon.  Ken  ye  what  he  says,  lass? 
'Bluid!  bluid!  bluid !'  What  else  should  Hoodie  Craw 
say  'wdi&n  he  dichts  his  neb  on  a  lamb's  innocent  briest 
bane,  an'  looks  ayont  the  hills  for  mair  and  better?" 

■•'■'  Hush,  Meggat,  hush  !"  cried  the  girl,  shuddering  and 
shrugging  one  round  shoulder  petulantly.  "'  Peace  to  your 
croakings !  'Tis  worse  than  all  the  hoodie  craws  that  ever 
were  nested  betwixt  Buchan's  Dungeon  and  Ben  Gairn! 
Do  not  trouble  me.  I  am  watching  for  my  father,  do  you 
hear  ?" 

The  withered  and  many-wrinkled  crone  emitted  a 
strange  chuckling  laugh,  not  a  whit  like  honest  human 
mirth,  but  rather  resembling  the  rumblings  of  water 
prisoned  in  caverns  underground. 

"  Your  f aither.  Ay,  ay — ye  watch  for  your  f aither  ?" 
such  was  the  burden  of  her  muttering  and  mumbling. 
"  Faither,"  quo'  she.  "  Nae  f aither  hae  ye,  my  bonnie, 
this  side  o'  the  Black  Flood  that  shall  ae  day  rise  ice- 
cauld  aboot  ye  frae  feet  to  chin.  Faither,  indeed! 
Neither  Hector  Faa,  nor  ony  Faa  that  ever  was  born  to 
streek  hangman's  tow  ere  begat  the  like  o'  you,  my  dearie. 
And  auld  wicked  Meggat  shall  see  ye  richtit  yet,  ere  the 
corbies  pyke  her  banes.  (Little  will  they  get  for  their 
pains — an  it  werena  marrowless  auld  shanks  and  saddle- 
leather!)" 

A  fit  of  coughing  shook  the  crone  as  the  smoke  of  the 

3 


THE    DARK     0'    THE    MOOX 

green  wood  curling  down  from  the  low  roof  tickled  her 
throat.  The  girl  moved  hastily,  as  if  the  sound  somehow 
annoyed  her. 

"  Meggat,"  she  cried,  with  a  peevish  impatience,  "  I 
wish  you  would  be  quiet !  I  cannot  hear  my  father's  signal 
for  your  din !" 

Then  quickly,  even  as  she  spoke,  she  lifted  up  her  hand, 
and  a  change  came  into  her  voice. 

"  There — I  hear  them — they  are  coming !"  she  cried,  and 
slipping  down  from  the  window-seat,  she  ran  and  opened 
the  low  door  of  the  Shieling,  to  which  (on  the  outward 
side)  heather  and  bog-myrtle  had  been  nailed  in  sweet- 
scented  sheaves  to  hide  the  outlaw's  retreat. 

With  a  well-accustomed  bend  of  her  graceful  head  be- 
neath the  lintel,  the  girl  found  herself  without.  She 
stood  on  a  path  perilous.  Immediately  below  was  the  wide 
gulf  of  space,  sinking  away  so  sharply  as  to  turn  a 
stranger  giddy;  but  Joyce  Faa  straightened  herself  and 
stood  erect,  with  the  grace  and  strength  of  a  young  birk- 
tree  rooted  in  the  clefts  of  the  rock.  She  was,  indeed,  no 
stranger  here.  For  three  years  she  had  stood  and  watched 
at  this  spot  every  night  at  this  hour  of  sunset.  Down  the 
long  valley  of  the  three  lochs  she  looked,  and  as  she  leaned 
eagerly  forward  the  dark  masses  of  her  hair  broke  tem- 
pestuously from  the  single  strand  of  ril)l)on  that  confined 
them,  and  fell  over  her  shoulders,  outlining  them  smoothly 
and  largely  as  water  does  a  rock  in  the  linn. 

Behind  her,  almost  from  her  heels,  fell  away  the  great 
cauldron  of  the  Dungeon  of  "Buchan,  wherein  white  ground- 
mists  crawled  and  swelled,  now  hiding  from  sight  and 
now  revealing  the  three  lakelets,  the  Round  Loch,  the 
Long  Loch,  and  the  Dry.  There  were  also  in  the  Dungeon 
gulf  to-night  certain  eery  cloud-swirls,  that  seemed  to 
bubble  and  circle  upward  like  tlie  boiling  of  a  pot.  Yet 
all  was  still  and  silent  at  the  Shiel,  so  that  the  faint 
streak  of  wood  smoke  from  old  Meggat's  fire  on  the  hearth 

4 


THE     SHIEL     OF    THE     DUNGEON 

rose  straight  up  the  cliff  front,  and  was  lost  among  the 
heather  and  rugged  brushwood  above.  Down  in  the  cal- 
dron itself,  however,  there  was  a  veering,  unequal  wind, 
or,  rather,  strife  of  winds,  teasing  the  mist  into  wisps 
white  as  lambs'  wool  and  light  as  blown  gossamer. 

"Ay,  ye  are  richt,  they  are  comin',"  said  old  Meggat 
Faa,  who  now  came  to  the  door  and  leaned  out,  a  strange 
huddle  of  patched  cloaks  and  ancient  rags.  For  Meggat's 
clothes  ever  hung  about  her  like  hiplocks  about  a  sheep's 
hurdles  before  shearing  time. 

"  Would  to  God  that  they  would  bring  back  nothing 
that  does  not  belong  to  them !"  said  the  girl,  wistfully. 
"  Meggat,  I  am  sick  of  this  thieving,  underhand  work. 
Why  can  we  not  set  out  our  rigs  of  potatoes,  and  plant 
our  bear  and  oats  on  the  sunnv  holms  of  the  Dee  like  other 
folk  ?" 

"  Hear  till  her,"  croaked  the  old  woman,  lifting  up 
her  hands  as  to  ancient  Eastern  gods  of  thieves  and  rievers ; 
"certes,  lass,  ye  are  nae  richt  Faa  ava'.  Whatna  gypsy  o' 
the  richt  stock  ever  wished  the  like.  And  there  is  nae  talk 
o'  thievery  in  the  matter.  'Tis  but  the  payment  of  lawfu' 
skaith-mail.  Wha  dare  meddle  wi'  honest  John  Mac- 
millan  o'  the  Bongill  or  auld  Eaif  Wabster  at  Craigen- 
callie  sae  lang  as  they  pay  Hector  Faa  his  just  and  honor- 
able dues?" 

"  It  is  taking  what  is  not  our  own  to  take,  whatever 
you  may  say,"  said  the  girl,  scornfully,  pulling  out  a  sprig 
of  white  heather  by  the  root ;  "  all  the  words  in  the  world 
will  not  alter  that !" 

"And  what  for  should  it?"  cried  Meggat,  with  sudden 
heat,  striking  her  palms  angrily  together.  "  What  signi- 
fies a  bit  sheep  at  an  orra  time  aff  the  hills?  Or  a  side 
o'  beef  in  the  Martinmas  brine-tub  ?  God  feeds  the  ravens 
and  gies  the  young  lions  their  prey,  says  the  Guid  Bulk. 
Surely  He  owes  as  muckle  to  us  that  dwell  in  thae  uncanny 
clefts  o'  the  rocks.    And  do  thae  gutsy  farmer  bodies  doon 

5 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

in  the  straths  owe  us  ony  less  ?  Meat  to  oor  bellies,  clead- 
ing  to  oor  backs,  they  may  weel  pay  for  the  priviledge  o' 
wakenin'  in  their  naked  beds  wi^  hale  banes  and  an  un- 
slitten  hals !" 

To  this  diatribe  the  girl  seemed  to  pay  but  little  heed, 
her  eyes,  grown  great  and  vague,  being  bent  towards  a 
certain  point  in  the  gloom  beneath.  The  old  woman  went 
on: 

"  Guid  richt,  indeed !'"  she  cried,  fiercely ;  "  let  them 
that  drave  us  like  wolves  to  the  mountain-taps  keep  us 
when  we  are  there.  Them  that  dwell  beneath  the  gled's 
nest  maun  pay  the  gled's  cess!  Forbye,  when  a.'  is  said 
and  dune,  Hector  Faa  does  his  traffic  mair  up  by  Carrick 
and  Colmonel  than  wi'  his  ain  kindly  country  o'  Gallawa'. 
And  what  the  waur  is  ony  fleabitten  Ayrshireman's  coo  o'  a 
bit  lossin',  I  wad  like  to  ken  ?" 


TI 

HECTOR    FAA'S    CURSE 

"  TT^ETCH  the  loon  this  road,  Mort !    Hark  ye,  man,  be 

A.  some  deal  mair  tender  wi'  him,  or  Hector  Faa  will 
thraw  your  neck  like  a  scraichin'  chuckle's.  There — lay 
him  on  the  daice  (dais) .  Fairly  and  saftly,  Mort  Faa — 
hear  ye  me?  The  laddie  is  no  a  barn-door  ye  are  dingin' 
doon  to  win  at  a  miser's  girnel !" 

"  Ay,  ay,  Meggat,  we  hear  ye  weel  eneuch.  Ye  needna 
scraich  there  like  a  swine  at  the  pig-killin',"  returned  the 
shorter  and  stouter  of  the  two  men.  They  were  carrying 
a  young  man  between  them. 

"  Gin  ye  had  wrestled  a'  the  nicht  till  the  sun-risin' 
to  keep  hand  o'  this  laddie,  as  ye  caa'  him,  and  gotten 
your  harns  nearly  dung  oot  by  his  wastrel  o'  a  companion, 
and  tired  their  beasts  wi'  bringin'  him  up  thae  weary  glens, 
ye  wadna  be  sae  nice  wi'  ony  low-country  calf !" 

While  the  two  men  were  placing  their  prisoner  on  the 
couch  of  heather  and  brushwood  in  the  corner,  and,  in 
obedience  to  Meggat's  shrill  commands,  withdrawing  sul- 
lenly to  their  own  wattled  abodes  on  the  hill-side,  Joyce 
was  walking  homeward  with  her  hand  on  her  father's  arm. 
Hector  Faa  loomed  up  tall  against  the  gray  shining  of  the 
mist,  and  answered  shortly  as  the  girl  plied  him  with 
questions. 

"What  ails  ye,  faither?"  she  said,  turning  easily  to 
the  country  speech,  which  far-wandering  gypsies  of  good 
blood  do  not  often  use.    "  What  ails  ye,  that  vour  answers 

7 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

are  so  few  and  short  to  the  bairn  that  has  waited  for  you 
hour  after  hour  wi'  a  dim  e'e  and  a  beating  heart  ?" 

"  Hush  thee,  Joyce,"  said  Hector  Faa,  patting  her  hand 
not  unkindly ;  "  I  have  muckle  on  my  mind  this  nicht. 
Your  faither's  life  hangs  now  by  a  single  thread,  and,  I 
fear  me,  that  thread  is  o'  the  hemp !  But  what  matter  ? 
It  would  only  be  the  last  singing  of  an  old  song !" 

The  girl  gave  a  little  stricken  cry  and  then  was  silent, 
waiting,  as  a  nestling  with  eyes  aloft  may  see  and  yet  be 
unable  to  avoid  the  pounce  of  the  kite. 

"  What  is  it  now,  f  aither  ?"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was 
low  and  the  words  seemed  to  choke  in  her  throat.  "  Ye 
surely  havena  slain  a  man  to  his  hurt — there  is  no  blood  on 
your  hands,  f  aither  ?    Tell  me — tell  your  ain  Joyce  !" 

"  And  what  if  there  were?'^  answered  Hector  Faa,  scorn- 
fully. "  What  were  one  more  or  less  to  the  daughter  of 
the  outlaw?" 

"  Faither !"  said  the  girl,  earnestly,  "  tell  me  truly.  I 
know  that  you  have  slain  your  enemies  at  the  cave  of  Isle 
Rathan  and  elsewhere,  but  that  was  in  fair  fighting.  Oh, 
faither,  tell  me  that  this  day  you  have  done  no  murder !" 

And  she  clasped  him  about  the  neck  so  tightly  that, 
being  near  the  verge  of  the  precipice  on  the  narrows  of  the 
path  up  to  the  Shiel,  he  had  perforce  to  clutch  at  the  rock 
in  order  to  sustain  them  both. 

"Joyce  Faa,"  he  said,  "hearken  to  me.  I  have  slain  no 
man  to  his  hurt,  though  God  knows  I  have  had  provocation 
enough.  Will  not  the  baited  bull  turn  and  gore  his  tor- 
mentors? Will  not  the  hunted  quarry  be  allowed  to  stand 
at  bay?  I  have  shed  no  l)lood  to-day  unjustly.  Joyce,  I 
have  only  executed  justice  for  two  ancient  wrongs.  I  have 
paid  a  score  in  full  that  has  long  been  on  the  slate.  A 
proud,  scorning  woman,  a  boastful  vaporer,  a  false  friend, 
and  a  fine  landed  gentleman — these  are  bitter  at  the  heart 
this  night!  Ay,  and  they  shall  yet  sup  sorrow  with  a 
deep  ladle,  or  Hector  Faa  be  done  with  them  !    Ah,  Mary 

8 


HECTOR     FAA'S     CURSE 

Maxwell— Beauty  May,  that  refused  to  share  the  gypsy's 
heather  bed,  you  shall  rest  somewhat  less  easily  on  down 
and  feathers  this  night,  for  the  thought  of  that  which  I 
have  reft  from  you  !    And  you,  my  laird  of  Isle  Rathan— " 

"What  of  him— what  of  Mr.  Patrick  Heron?"  cried  the 
girl,  breaking  in  upon  him;  "you  have  not  harmed  him, 
surely!  Is  he  not  a  friend  of  Silver  Sand's— of  my 
uncle's?" 

Plector  Faa  laughed  a  short,  defiant  laugh. 

"  Maybe,"  he  said,  bitterly.  "  John  Faa's  friends  are 
mostly  the  enemies  of  his  own  kin.  What  good  hath  Silver 
Sand  ever  done  to  the  Faas?  He  has  taken  our  groats 
and  silver  pennies,  indeed — and  for  what?  Plainly,  for 
naught — for  less  than  naught !  That  he  might  betray  us, 
Joyce — that  he  might  exile  and  outlaw  us,  while  he  lies 
soft  on  a  lord's  linen,  and  dines  off  plate  of  silver  in  the 
company  of  the  King's  Justicer  that  condemns  us  to  the 
halter !" 

"  But  did  he  not  warn  you  on  the  night  of  Craignairny, 
father?" 

"  Warn  us — truth,  that  did  he  sickerly !"  cried  the  man, 
with  bitterest  scorn  on  his  face;  "but  to  what  purpose, 
save  to  make  our  poor  lives  more  outcast  than  before?  But 
I,  his  brother,  who  alone  of  the  Gitano  have  been  faithful 
to  the  laws  of  Egypt — I,  that  am  neither  renegade  nor 
favor-sorner,  have  this  night  evened  matters  rarely — ay, 
with  my  ancient  enemies  and  with  mine  own  fause  kin !" 

He  stopped  and  laughed  aloud,  as  he  saw  the  Shiel 
of  the  Dungeon  before  him. 

"  '  Master  John  Faa  Maxwell  Heron  !'  Indeed,  a  bonny 
name !    The  lion  and  the  lamb  lie  down  together — " 

"What  do  you  mean,  father?"  said  the  girl,  wonder- 
ingly. 

Hector  Faa  turned  about  and  pointed  to  where  a  faint 
streak  of  light  marked  the  heather  door  of  the  Shiel. 

"  Go  in  there,  and  you  will  learn !"  he  said,  sternly. 

9 


THE     DAEK     0'     THE     MOON 

Then,  after  his  daughter  had  left  him  alone,  the  outlaw 
turned  to  the  south  and  stretched  out  his  right  hand  in 
one  of  those  gestures  of  defiance  such  as  in  these  days, 
only  the  wild  folk  of  the  hill  use. 

"  A  black  curse  on  Eathan — the  curse  of  Deva  on  the 
Isle  of  Eathan !  The  scorns  and  the  shaming  of  a  woman 
— the  hatred  of  a  man !  These  shall  return  tenfold  upon 
hall  and  acre,  upon  hearth-stone  and  roof-tree !  A  thou- 
sand times  have  1  cursed  Patrick  Heron  and  his  wife — in 
winter  and  summer,  in  bed,  board,  and  estate !  In  bride- 
time  and  bairn-time,  in  flock  and  herd  have  I  cursed 
them  !  May  the  day  dawn,  and  that  right  early,  when  there 
shall  not  be  a  reeking  chimney  on  their  broad  lands,  and 
when  of  their  great  house  of  Eathan  there  remains  not 
so  much  as  one  stone  upon  another — because  of  the  dead 
that  are  as  coral  in  the  Cave  of  Blood  this  day,  and  the 
evil  despite  they  and  theirs  have  done  the  seed  of  Egypt !" 

When  at  her  father's  bidding  Joyce  Faa  entered  the  little 
square  living-room  of  the  Shiel  she  found  it  brightly 
lighted  by  a  fire  of  green  birk  twigs  which  Meggat  had 
bidden  Mort  Faa  and  Grice  Baillie  to  bring  her  from  an 
adjoining  cave,  where  a  stock  of  these  things  was  kept. 
The  old  woman  was  bending  over  a  young  lad,  as  it  seemed 
to  her,  scantly  on  the  border  of  manhood.  "  Pale  and 
slender,  and  with  fair  curls  clustering  round  a  broad  fore- 
head " — that  is  the  description  of  him  as  he  appeared  at 
that  time.  As  in  a  former  case,  it  is  communicated  to  the 
writer  by  an  interested  person  for  the  purposes  of  this 
chronicle. 

"  A  bonny  lad !  certes,  a  bonny  lad !"  murmured  the 
crone,  her  palsied  head  nodding  and  jerking  at  every 
word.  "  Joyce,  come  ye  here,  lass,  and  help  me  to  lay 
him  better  at  his  ease  than  thae  muckle  cowts  left  him, 
that  kenned  nae  better  than  to  throw  him  doon  wi'  a  clash 
on  the  floor  like  a  bag  o'  saut !" 

The  young  man  had  not  yet  opened  his  eyes.    The  ex- 

10 


HECTOR     FAA'S     CURSE 

dtements  of  his  capture,  the  weary  journey,  jolting  on  a 
wretched  saddle  up  perilous  hill-tracks,  the  unkindty  and 
awkward  handling  of  rude  captors,  had  so  told  on  the 
wounded  youth,  that  for  several  hours  he  had  been  in  the 
hands  of  Mort  and  his  associates  even  as  the  bag  of  salt 
to  which  Meggat  compared  him.  And  without  doubt  these 
rough  catherans  were  glad  enough  to  be  rid  of  their  bur- 
den, and  slink  off  to  their  roast  of  spareribs  and  their  cups 
of  smuggled  brandy. 

Sleeping  accommodations  were  scant  at  the  best  in  the 
Shiel  of  the  Dungeon,  but  within  Hector  Faa  had  arranged 
a  number  of  cubicles,  screened  off  from  one  another  by 
hanging  curtains  of  coarse  stuff.  Joyce  came  and  stood 
a  moment  silent  over  the  youth  as  he  lay  on  the  heather 
roots  spread  upon  a  broad  bench  of  beaten  earth.  She  had 
never  seen  (so  she  owned  to  herself)  any  one  so  delicately 
featured,  and  in  a  moment  more  she  had  raised  the  young 
man  in  her  strong  arms.  A  surprising  feeling  of  mother- 
hood stirred  in  her  heart,  some  strange  grace  of  natural 
pity  warring  with  the  inherited  hatreds  she  had  learned 
from  her  father. 

With  one  hand  she  swept  the  middle  curtain  aside,  and, 
entering  a  small  recess  where  the  rough  rocky  walls  were 
half  concealed  by  hangings  and  pitiful  little  attempts  at 
ornament — rough  slabs  of  colored  stone  from  the  hills  and 
scraps  of  carpet  and  hangings,  she  laid  him  down  on  her 
own  bed. 

As  she  did  so  Joyce  discovered  a  slow  ooze  of  dark  blood 
among  the  lad's  curls,  and,  bidding  Meggat  hold  aloft  the 
rosin  faggot,  she  examined  the  wound  with  a  light  hand 
and  practised  eye. 

"  Who  has  done  this  ?"  she  cried.  "  Surely  they  need 
not  so  have  mishandled  a  laddie — one  that  is  little  more 
than  a  bairn !" 

And  at  the  words,  as  if  he  resented  the  imputation  of 
childhood,  the  young  man  opened  his  eyes.    He  looked  in 

11 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

bewilderment  at  the  girl  who  stood  bending  over  him. 
Then  his  eyes  fell  with  more  comprehension  on  the  wild, 
decrepit  figure  of  old  Meggat,  as  she  stood  at  the  bedfoot 
holding  aloft  the  torch. 

"  Who  are  you,  laddie  ?" 

The  words  came  from  Joyce  Faa's  lips  almost  without 
any  will  of  her  own,  and  with  a  shrewd,  bright  smile  (his 
mother's,  so  they  say)  the  young  man  answered,  "  The 
child's  name  is  John." 

Poor  Jo3Te  had  had  small  opportunity  of  becoming 
familiar  with  the  letter  of  Scripture.  She  took  the  infor- 
mation seriously,  and  continued,  "  You  do  not  wish  us  to 
know  your  other  name  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you  gladly,  if  you  will  help  me  to  sit  up  and 
inform  me  where  I  am !" 

"  You  are  in  the  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon,"  said  the  girl, 
'■  and  I  am — " 

'"  Hush  !"'  said  the  old  Moman,  sharply.  "  There  are 
names  and  places  which  are  none  the  better  of  being 
bandied  about  in  the  hearing  of  every  chance-comer !" 

"  I  fear  me,  good  lady,"  said  the  youth,  "  that  I  am  no 
chance-comer.  Well  do  I  know  who  brought  me  here,  and 
for  what  purpose.  Not  by  chance  is  my  sconce  ringing  as 
if  a  million  bees  had  hived  in  it.  You  are,  I  take  it,  Hec- 
tor Faa's  daughter,  and  I  can  bear  witness  that  your  father 
is  rightly  named  '  Hector  of  the  Strong  Arm  ' !" 

The  girl  turned  and  muttered  something  in  a  low  tone 
to  the  old  woman.  Then,  as  the  youth  strove  to  raise  him- 
self on  his  elbow,  she  took  him  by  the  shoulders  and  laid 
him  softly  back  again  upon  the  pillow. 

"  Eest  ye  there,  young  lad,"  she  said.  "  Wo  will  first 
foment  and  cleanse  the  wound,  and  then  we  will  talk  con- 
cerning names,  places,  and  such  like,  an  you  will." 

"  A  J)risoner  may  not  make  conditions — especially  with 
so  fair  a  jailer!"  smiled  the  youth.  (Where  thus  early 
he  got  the  assurance  I  know  not.) 

1? 


HECTOR     FAA'S     CURSE 

Then  the  girl,  finding  an  obstruction  in  the  way  of  her 
surgical  operations,  with  the  most  natural  grace  in  the 
world  set  her  hand  to  the  edge  of  her  kirtle,  and,  bending 
down,  drew  a  knife  from  a  sheath  held  in  place  by  her 
garter.  This  she  applied  with  the  most  matter-of-fact  air 
to  the  back  of  the  youth's  stock,  to  which  his  long,  fair 
curls  had  become  matted.  Lightly  and  deftly  she  did  her 
work,  the  knife,  an  exceedingly  workmanlike  weapon,  flash- 
ing to  and  fro  before  the  eyes  of  the  young  man  as  he 
lay  watching  her  with  a  soft,  amused  smile  on  his  face. 

Joyce  Faa  was  thus  engaged  when  the  door  of  the  Shiel 
opened,  and  Hector  Faa  stood  on  the  threshold.  He 
paused  in  a  kind  of  amazed  wonder  at  what  he  saw.  Then 
he  stepped  into  his  house  with  a  grim  air. 

"  Well,  Master  John  Faa  Maxwell  Heron,"  he  said,  ad- 
dressing his  prisoner,  "  you  are  being  better  done  to  here, 
in  the  wolf's  lair,  than  I  was  when  your  father  and  kin 
hunted  me  in  the  days  of  the  Great  Killing,  when  I  lay, 
perforce,  in  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth,  and  for  provend 
gnawed  my  own  wrist-bones !" 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  the  youth  thus  addressed ;  "  I  am 
indeed  being  tended  far  above  my  deserts.  And,  sir,  since 
you  have  brought  me  so  far  without  any  will  of  mine, 
perhaps  you  will  indulge  me  with  this  young  lady's  name, 
that  I  may  thank  her  for  her  kindness  to  a  wounded  man 
and  a  prisoner." 

"Joyce  Faa  is  my  daughter,"  said  Hector  Faa;  and, 
as  if  to  stop  any  further  catechism,  he  added,  sharply: 
"  Joyce,  stand  aside  !  You  have  done  enough  !  The  young 
man  and  I  will  now  have  some  conference." 

The  girl  turned  about  with  the  knife  still  in  her  hand, 
and  for  the  least  part  of  a  moment  young  Maxwell  Heron 
saw  the  dark  blood  mantle  her  cheek,  and  a  certain  look 
of  kinship  to  the  outlaw  glitter  from  her  eye  like  a  knife 
thrust.  Then,  all  sudden,  the  softer  light  came  back  into 
her  eves.    She  let  the  knife  drop  upon  the  table,  and  with 

13 


TPIE     Dx\RK     0'     THE     MOON 

a  blush  she  moved  away  to  the  fireside  witliout  speaking. 
Tliere  she  began  to  busy  herself  with  the  earthen  pipkins 
on  the  embers.  The  youth  continued  to  watch  the  girl 
languidly,  in  spite  of  the  formidable  presence  of  Hector 
Faa,  who  did  not  at  once  begin  to  speak. 

Suddenly  the  young  man  called  out :  "  Well  done !  I 
could  not  have  managed  that !" 

For  with  a  large,  easy  movement,  simple  and  natural  as 
breathing,  the  girl  had  unhooked  the  great  pot  which  bub- 
bled and  boiled  over  the  fire,  and  hung  it  three  or  four  links 
higher  up. 

The  action  naturally  attracted  no  notice  in  the  Shiel  of 
the  Dungeon.  Hector  barely  turned  his  eyes  in  his  daugh- 
ter's direction,  while  the  girl  herself  sat  down  on  a  stool 
and  gazed  pensively  into  the  fire. 

"  Now,  young  man !"  said  Hector,  grimly,  "  you  and  I 
will  begin  to  cast  up  our  accounts !" 

"  I  am  not  aware  that  there  have  been  any  intromis- 
sions between  us,"  said  Maxwell  Heron,  dr3dy;  "I  never 
set  eyes  on  you  before  to-day." 

The  gypsy  outlaw  showed  his  teeth  in  a  very  ugly  grin. 

"  I  have  heard  say,"  he  went  on,  letting  the  words  drip 
slowly  from  him,  "  that  it  is  the  way  of  the  God  you 
Christians  worship  to  visit  the  iniquities  of  the  fathers 
upon  the  children  unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation. 
Well,  I  am  going  to  let  a  godly  second  generation  know 
how  the  arrangement  feels  when  it  is  called  on  to  pay  for 
the  sins  of  the  first !" 


Ill 

JOYCE    FAA 

PEISOISrEH  and  captor  faced  each  other  silently  in 
the  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon.  Hector  Faa  loomed  up 
strong  and  dark  by  the  hearth,  the  firelight  playing  on  his 
dark  beard  and  flecked  hair.  One  hand  gripped  a  knife 
in  his  girdle — not  the  honest  smuggler's  "jocteleg,"  but 
the  Spanish  navajo,  brought  from  Albacete  by  some  far- 
travelled  Romany.  The  youth,  on  the  other  hand,  lay  on 
the  bed  in  the  alcove,  the  curtain  drawn  partially  aside. 
He  raised  himself  a  little  on  his  elbow.  He  had  always 
been  delicate  since  his  birth,  and  in  some  things  his  ways 
were  not  the  ways  of  those  about  him,  as  during  all  his 
life  he  had  found  out  to  his  cost.  Doubtless  the  gypsy  held 
the  opinion  that  young  Maxwell  Heron  would  be  easily 
frightened. 

But  cowardice  is  not  a  Heron  vice^  though  mayhap  they 
have  other  j^nd  bigger  ones. 

"  There  will  be  a  hard  man  brought  low,  a  proud  woman 
on  her  knees  this  night  in  the  House  of  Rathan !"  said  the 
outlaw.  The  young  man  moved  slightly  on  his  pillow,  and 
a  smile  flickered  faintly  about  his  mouth.  This  seemed 
somehow  to  irritate  his  captor. 

"  Ay,  smile !"  he  said,  with  sudden  black  fury ;  "  but 
let  me  tell  you  your  mirth  is  strangely  ill-timed,  as  I 
shall  show  you !  You  are  in  the  hands  of  your  house's 
sworn  enemy — of  Hector  Faa,  who  dwells  at  the  Dungeon 
Shiel !    What  find  ye  matter  of  mirth  in  that?" 

15 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON^ 

The  3'oung  man  dif]  not  reply.  He  had  been  thinking 
that  he  could  have  made  a  better  guess  at  the  occupations 
of  his  father  and  mother  on  that  the  first  night  of  their 
son's  trepanning.  He  knew  that  his  father  would  be  busi- 
ly planning  and  organizing  a  campaign,  and  his  mother 
out  on  her  beast,  riding  fast  from  house  to  house  to  raise 
the  country  upon  the  reivers'  trail. 

Hector  Faa,  however,  took  the  youth's  easy  manners  for 
a  kind  of  personal  defiance,  and  it  was  with  a  still  and 
sullen  glitter  of  his  sombre  eye  that  he  continued.  "  Thir- 
ty of  the  Calore — the  best  blood  of  the  Romany — thirty 
have  I  seen  shot  doAvn  one  by  one  by  the  men  of  your 
house  in  the  Cave  of  Death.  And  among  these  hills  their 
womenfolk  waited  for  them  in  vain,  even  as  to-night  the 
woman  who  bore  you  runs  to  the  door  and  back  again, 
crying,  '  He  will  not  come  !'  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  kill  me?"  said  Maxwell  Heron,  in  his 
quiet  manner — the  way  of  a  child  that  knows  no  reason  to 
be  afraid. 

"  Kill  you !"  cried  Hector  Faa ;  "  that  were  over  easy 
an  exit !  Somewhat  slower  shall  be  the  gyps3''s  re- 
venge !  First  we  will  drain  your  father's  money-bags. 
He  shall  pay  for  your  body — ear  by  ear,  tooth  by  tooth, 
finger  by  finger.  He  shall  sell  his  land  to  raise  the 
ransom.  For  your  sake  he  shall  die  landless — fortune- 
less; stripped  even  as  the  gypsy  outlaw  of  the  hill  was 
stripped !" 

"There  is  a  proverb,"  said  IMaxwell  Heron,  calmly, 
"*]\riekle  hind — little  wit!'  If  you  stri])  me  of  my  lands 
perhaps  in  time  I  shall  get  some  wit — which,  indeed,  my 
mother  says  T  greatly  lack." 

It  was  now  the  gypsy's  turn  to  be  disconcerted  by  the 
youth's  assured  calm. 

"  Have  you  no  fear  to  be  where  you  are?  Has  not  your 
father  told  you — have  ye  never  heard  tell  of  the  Death 
House  of  Craignairny,  of  the  Murder  Hole  in  Loch  Neld- 

16 


JOYCE     FAA 

ricken.  of  the  Brig,  over  the  Black  Water,  where  the  out- 
laws broke  their  way  through,  and  sent  your  coward  kin 
whirling  down  to  the  Airds  pool?" 

"  I  have  heard  of  these  things,"  said  the  young  man ; 
''  but  I  never  yet  heard  either  a  Heron  or  a  Maxwell  called 
a  '  coward  kin.'  " 

"  Well,  you  hear  it  now,"  said  Hector  Faa.  "  Was  it 
not  a  coward  act  to  outlaw  the  man  they  could  not  fight — 
to  set  the  dogs  of  the  law  on  the  wild  deer  of  the  hills  they 
could  not  catch  with  their  own  hounds?  I  tell  you  Hec- 
tor Faa  and  his  folk  dwell  like  corbies  in  the  clefts  of  a 
rock  because  of  these  two — Patrick  Heron  of  Eathan, 
your  father,  and  William  Maxwell  of  Craigdarroch,  your 
mother's  brother.  Since  I  cannot  reach  them,  on  your 
head  it  shall  be !  As  they  have  dealt  v.-ith  me,  so  will  I 
deal  with  you !" 

"  Well,"  returned  the  youth,  dropping  his  head  back  on 
the  pillow  a  little  wearily,  "  if  you  can  put  off  this  dis- 
cussion till  the  morning  I  shall  be  much  obliged  to  you. 
One  of  your  lads  gave  me  a  most  unkindly  clout  on  the 
crown,  and  your  saddle-l)ags  are  none  so  soft  as  the  couch 
which,  I  fear  me,  I  have  caused  this  fair  maiden  to  give 
up  to  me." 

At  the  youth's  first  soft-spoken  words  the  outlaw  start- 
ed forward,  his  terrible  Spanish  knife  half-drawn  from  its 
sheath.  But  out  of  the  gloom  on  the  other  side  of  the 
fireplace  his  daughter  darted  still  more  quickly.  She 
caught  the  threatening  arm,  and  set  her  other  hand  to 
her  father's  breast. 

"  No,  no,  father !  no !''  she  cried ;  "  he  is  a  brave  lad 
and  young.  Hold  him  to  ransom,  if  you  will.  But  let 
there  be  no  bloodshed  on  the  gypsy's  hearth-stone.  Let 
me  be  his  keeper.  I  will  answer  for  his  safety  with  my  life. 
You  can  surely  find  a  more  profitable  revenge  than  murder 
in  cold  blood !" 

For  a  moment  Hector  Faa  paused  irresolute.  Then  ho 
2  17 


THE     DARK    0'     THE     MOON 

let  the  half-drawn  knife  slip  back  into  its  sheath  with  a 
click. 

He  nodded  grimly  and  turned  on  his  heel,  saying  only: 
"  Then  on  your  head  be  it,  Joyce  Faa,  if  you  let  him  es- 
cape from  the  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon !" 

As  soon  as  the  two  were  left  alone  (for  old  Meggat  had 
vanished  at  the  entrance  of  Hector),  the  young  man  said: 
"  I  would  that  you  had  not  said  that.  You  have  tied  me 
faster  by  your  words  than  the  varlet  who  gave  me  the 
crack  on  my  brain-pan." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,"  said  the  girl,  moving 
uneasily. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Maxwell  Heron,  smiling,  "  you  have 
made  yourself  responsible  for  my  safe-keeping.  How 
can  I  escape,  knowing  that  the  blame  will  fall  on 
you  ?" 

She  looked  at  him  to  see  whether  or  not  he  jested. 
Then,  her  eyes  reassuring  her  on  that  point,  she  answered : 
"  My  father  has  captured  you — that  is  his  risk.  I  have 
undertaken  to  keep  you — that  is  mine.  Why  should  you 
care?" 

And  he  had  nothing  better  to  say  in  reply  than  just  this: 
"  Because  your  eyelashes  are  long  and  black !" 

But  he  had  quite  miscalculated  the  effect  of  his  words. 

"  You  look  like  a  woman,  and  talk  like  a  fool,"  cried 
the  girl,  flashing  up  in  sudden  anger.  "  I  am  no  silly 
ninny  that  j'ou  should  offer  me  the  mockery  of  vain  com- 
pliment !" 

The  youth  started  up  again  on  his  elbow  eagerly. 

"1  ask  your  forgiveness,"  he  said;  "  it  is  I  who  am  the 
ninny.  Your  words  rebuke  me.  But  how  did  you  learn 
such  things  up  in  the  folds  of  the  hills?" 

With  a  slight  motion  of  her  hand  Joyce  Faa  sent  the 
youth  back  to  his  pillow.  Then  she  said,  simply:  "  T  was 
born  in  France,  and  lived  there  till  I  was  si.xteen  with  my 
mother,  and  after  her  death  with  the  good  Sisters.    Then 

18 


JOYCE     FAA 

I  went  six  months  to  school  in  Annan.     That  was  when 
my  father  was  a  drover  on  the  English  border — " 

Maxwell  Heron  was  on  the  point  of  saying:  "Yes,  I 
have  heard  of  that !"  But  his  good  angel  stopped  his 
mouth  in  time.  For,  indeed,  it  was  currently  reported 
that  the  details  of  Hector  Faa's  droving,  had  they  been 
fully  condescended  upon,  would  justly  have  brought  him 
to  the  gallows.  So  with  wisdom  and  discretion  beyond  his 
years  the  youth  only  nodded. 

"  The  rest  my  uncle  Silver  Sand  taught  me — and  these !" 

She  opened  a  little  door,  and  revealed  a  score  or  so  of 

hooks  in  a  small  square  "  aumry  "  let  into  the  wall  of  the 

Shiel.     "  x^nd  now  you  will  drink  this  draught,  and  get 

you  to  sleep !" 

She  poured  out  of  a  leathern  bottle  of  pitched  goatskin 
a  cupful  of  a  pale  yellow  liquid,  and  brought  it  to  the  bed- 
side. Maxwell  Heron  protested  (like  his  father's  own 
son)  that  he  had  no  intention  of  going  to  sleep,  "  in  such 
agreeable  society,"  he  meant  to  add,  but  something  in  the 
girl's  eyes  prevented  him. 
"  Take  it !"  she  said,  firmly. 

"  An  it  were  mandragora  I  would  drink  it !"  he  said, 
smiling  up  at  her. 

"  It  is  herb  tea,"  she  answered,  gravely.  But  whether 
with  the  intent  to  prick  the  wind-bag  of  his  fine  phrase 
the  youth  could  not  at  that  time  make  up  his  mind. 

At  any  rate,  he  drank  the  draught  down  with  a  single 
movement  of  his  arm,  and  lay  back.  Joyce  Faa  came  tow- 
ards him,  and  with  one  strong  arm  lifted  up  his  head  while 
she  adjusted  his  pillows  with  the  other.  He  tried  to  pro- 
test, but  a  certain  sweet  lassitude  took  him  by  the  throat, 
and  it  came  to  him  that  he  was  smiling  broadly  and  fool- 
ishly, at  he  knew  not  what.  A  perfume  of  wild  hill  plants 
was  in  his  nostrils,  thyme  and  bog-myrtle  newly  trodden 
upon,  and  tbe  tall  rushes  in  the  meadow-lands  where  ihe 
springs  are  thickest.     He  heard  the  bees  hum  among  the 

19 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

heather  blooms,  the  cries  of  many  nesting  birds.  The 
winds  blew  caller  and  thin  about  the  highest  hill-tops,  at 
which  he  breathed  more  largeh%  and  a  great  blue  shadow 
seemed  to  sweep  over  the  landscape  swift  as  the  flight  of  a 
bird.  Then  for  a  long  moment  he  saw  everything  as  it 
were  through  running  water.  And  Maxwell  Heron  fell 
on  sleep. 


IV 

SILVER   SAND— THE   MATTER  OF  THE   WAGER 

IT  all  arose  out  of  a  wager  I  had  with  Jasper — young 
Jasper  Jamieson,  that  is ;  Big  Jasper,  so-called  to  dis- 
tinguish him  from  his  father,  Jasper  the  Elder — Little 
Jasper,  yet  not  old.  It  was  a  curious  wager,  to  begin  with, 
and  turned  out  yet  more  curiously.  We  rode  out  together 
on  a  May  morning.  I  had  upon  me  a  suit  of  new  clothes 
just  come  from  the  town  of  Edinburgh,  where  I  had  gotten 
such  learning  as  I  possessed,  and  my  father,  Patrick  Heron, 
of  Isle  Rathan,  in  Galloway,  had  given  me  five  golden 
guineas  to  be  my  summer  store,  laying  on  me  the  injunc- 
tion not  to  spend  them  in  change-houses  and  promiscuous 
folly,  but  to  pay  my  legal  debts  with  them,  if  any  such  I 
had. 

Well,  there  were  one  of  two  small  commissions — to 
Eobert  Faulds,  of  the  Plainstones  at  Dumfries,  for  ribbons 
of  a  new  puce  color,  very  becoming  to  clear  complexions, 
like  mine,  which  I  desired  to  bring  home  to  make  rosettes 
for  the  knee  gathers  of  my  breeches — where  it  was  the 
fashion  to  wear  them,  together  with  other  matters.  But 
since  Robert  Faulds  (decent  man,  now  a  Baillie  of  the 
burgh)  was  a  much  richer  man  than  I,  and  also  well  aware 
that  I,  Maxwell  Heron,  was  my  father's  son,  I  judged  that 
Robert  could  better  afford  to  wait  than  I  afford  to  break 
into  my  five  good  gold  pieces  at  once. 

But  to  the  wager. 

Jasper  Jamie  was  my  bosom  friend.     And  when  did 

21 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

twenty  years  lack  a  friend  of  the  heart,  being  a  healthy 
youth  and  fond  of  ploys  jointly  engineered  between  the 
gloaming  and  the  mirk?  Mine  was  merry  of  heart  and 
eke  of  countenance — the  "  moral  of  his  own  father  in  his 
youth,"  said  my  mother.  For  the  rest,  Jasper  Jamieson 
was  tall,  large-boned,  strong  of  limb,  a  little  reckless, 
perilously  willing  with  his  fists,  equally  ready  to  fight  and 
to  forgive,  ever  getting  into  scrapes,  and  anon  elbowing 
himself  out  of  them  by  dint  of  sheer  good-humor  and 
graciousness  of  disposition. 

His  father  was  of  the  first  who  painted  landscapes  upon 
canvas,  which  were  sold  in  Edinburgh  and  London  to  folk 
who  desired  such.  But  more  often  he  drew  the  likenesses 
of  country  gentlefolks  to  hang  on  their  own  walls  in  order 
that  their  descendants  might  see  whence  they  got  their 
noses.  Sometimes  he  drew  the  nose  in  first  and  added  the 
ancestor  after — which,  by  all  accounts,  is  a  paying  trade. 

As  for  me,  I  was  the  scion  of  fighting  houses  on  both 
sides.  Father  and  mother  both  had  taken  their  part  in 
those  bitter  strifes  of  the  past,  which  they  loved  to  speak 
of  by  the  fireside  on  the  winter  nights.  Yet  the  son  of 
the  "  drawer-wi'-pent,"  as  old  Jasper  Jamie  was  called  in 
our  parts,  had  all  the  fighting  qualities.  While,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  had — well,  it  is  not  easy  to  tell  what  I  pos- 
sessed in  their  place;  but,  at  any  rate,  I  was  not  made 
for  the  rough-and-tumble  of  life  as  I  found  it  in  my  native 
province,  as  this  faithful  narrative  will  too  abundantly 
prove. 

At  school  they  used  to  call  me  "  lassie-boy,"  because  of 
a  certain  delicacy  of  feature  unusual  among  boys,  and  also 
because  my  mother,  ill-advised  and  ignorant  of  such 
matters,  had  ordained  that  I  should  keep  my  hair  long. 
She  also  forbade  me  to  fight  with  my  fists,  for  which, 
indeed,  I  was  very  ill-fitted.  So  in  consequence  of  these 
disabilities  I  suft'ered  for  a  while  the  pains  of  very  purga- 
tory, till  at  last,  in  one  desperate  moment,  after  suffering 

22 


SILVEE     SAND— THE     WAGER 

tormentings  innumerable,  I  drew  ray  knife  and  nicked  my 
two  leading  tormentors  as  they  ran  from  me,  one  in  the 
calf  of  the  leg  and  the  other  somewhat  higher  up,  in  that 
part  of  his  body  where  the  wound  would  do  the  least  per- 
manent harm,  yet  (for  the  present)  cause  a  maximum  of 
inconvenience. 

For  this  I  received  my  first  thrashing  from  Henry 
Gowanlock  in  the  Grammar  School  of  Dumfries.  I 
endured  the  hardness  of  the  "  taws,"  not,  I  fear,  without 
tears  or  as  became  a  hero.  But  at  any  rate  after  that  I 
was  at  least  left  alone  in  the  playing-grounds.  A  boy  who 
keeps  his  father's  jockteleg  (which  is  to  say  smuggler's 
sheath-knife)  in  his  pocket  for  emergencies,  and  is  known 
to  be  ready  to  use  it,  cannot  be  wholly  disrespected  in  the 
most  democratic  of  seminaries. 

So  I  had  gained  something  by  my  shedding  of  blood  and 
tears,  though,  indeed,  it  was  done  out  of  sheer  desperation, 
and  not  from  courage,  as  some  thought.  And,  chiefly,  I 
gained  for  all  time  my  friend  Jasper,  the  boy  who  carried 
on  his  person  a  little  triangular  scar,  which  one  only  saw 
when  he  went  swimming.  He  it  was  who  had  twisted  my 
love-locks  at  school — though  by  the  time  we  were  twenty 
I  surmise  that  he  would  have  given  a  great  deal  for  that 
same  hair.  For  his  own  was  but  very  hog's  bristles,  while 
I  could  wear  mine  combed- out  to  the  length  and  likeness  of 
a  wig,  and  tie  it  with  a  plain  black  ribbon  at  the  back, 
as  was  the  fashion.  Also  by  that  time  Jasper  cared  most 
of  all  to  take  the  eyes  of  the  ladies,  as  all  such  ruddy 
young  lumps  of  manhood  do — as  I  judge,  because  the 
very  awkwardness  of  their  own  beef  and  bone  constrains 
them  to  admiration  of  that  which  is  frail  and  fair  and 
delicate.  And  now,  when  I  think  of  it,  mayhap  that  was 
the  bond  which  bound  Jasper  to  myself,  even  more  than 
the  jag  I  gave  him  with  my  father's  jockteleg. 

But  I — being,  as  I  say,  equipped  with  features  wellnigh 
feminine,  as  well  as  with  a  marked  fairness  of  the  skin  and 

23 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

blueness  of  eyes,  not  to  mention  my  nnfortnnate  love- 
locks— was  late  in  beginning  to  think  of  maidens  and  their 
charms. 

So  our  wager  (will  I  never  get  to  it?)  did  not  concern 
the  sex,  as  most  young  men's  bets  do,  not  always  to  their 
honor. 

After  all  it  amounted  to  no  more  than  this.  Jasper  also 
had  gotten  him  five  pounds  from  his  father,  and  was  storm- 
ing to  be  rid  of  it.  So,  his  heart  being  enlarged  within 
him  because  he  was  going  to  see  Toinette  Gowdcnlocks, 
the  daughter  of  Henry  of  that  ilk,  our  Dumfries  school- 
master (whose  "taws"  in  past  days  had  so  often  caused 
us  to  "  loup  when  there  was  nae  ditch  and  claw  where  we 
werena  yeuky  "),  he  must  needs  make  me  a  bet  that  I  would 
not  name  the  most  common  bird  in  the  woody  country-side 
through  which  we  were  passing. 

I  asked  him  how  we  should  settle  it. 

"  Settle  it,  ]\Iaxwell  Heron,"  he  cried,  making  his  pony 
passage  and  champ  the  bit  as  it  was  his  pride  to  do.  (He 
was  practising  to  show  off  before  Toinette,  as  tricksome  a 
minx  as  ever  flirted  a  Spanish  fan.)  *'  Maxwell  Heron, 
you  never  had  the  instinct  of  a  right  gentleman  in  ye,  man. 
Here's  five  silver  shillings — cover  them  wi'  other  five.  There 
ye  are!  Now,  what  bird  that  flies  the  air,  think  ye,  will 
we  see  the  oftenest  between  here  and  Barnbarroch  Mill 
Wood?  'The  shilfy '  (chaffinch),  says  you.  Then,  to 
counter  you,  and  bring  the  wager  to  the  touch,  I'm  great 
wi'  the  l)lack  coats.  I'll  e'en  risk  my  siller  on  the  craw.* 
He's  ]\Icss  John  amang  a'  the  birds  o'  the  air !" 

So  on  we  rode  in  keen  emulation,  and  as  we  went  I 
made  a  list  of  the  birds  we  encountered.  When  there  was 
no  doul)t,  and  we  were  both  agreed,  I  pricked  a  mark  after 
the  name  of  each  we  saw.  At  the  Faulds  of  the  Nitwood 
the  mavis  led  by  a  neck  from  my  friend  the  "  shilfy."    But 

*Cra\v:     Used  in  the  soutli  of  Scotland  of  the  rook. 
24 


SILVER     SAND  — THE     WAGER 

there,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  we  encountered  a  cloud 
of  rooks  making  merry  about  a  "  crawbogle  "  that  had  been 
set  up  to  scare  them  off  some  newly  sown  land.  Jasper 
shouted  loud  and  long.  The  siller,  he  maintained,  was 
already  his.  1  had  as  lief  hand  it  over.  1  told  him  to  bide 
a  wee — all  was  not  over  yet. 

Now  I  began  to  remark,  that  while  the  chaffinch  and  the 
sparrow,  the  robin  and  his  swarthy  rookship  occurred  in 
packs  and  knots  and  clusters,  there  was  one  bird  which 
had  to  be  pricked  off  regularly  and  frequently  This  was 
the  swift  (or  large,  black  swallow).  Whether  it  was  that 
his  long,  elastic  wings  and  smooth  swoopings  brought  the 
same  bird  more  than  once  across  our  vision,  or  simply  be- 
cause every  barn  and  out-house  sheltered  a  couple,  it  was 
not  long  before  it  was  evident  that  both  Jasper  and  I  had 
small  chance  of  heading  the  poll  with  our  favorites.  By  the 
time  we  had  gotten  to  the  Moss  of  Little  Cloak,  and  left 
the  woodlands  behind  us  for  that  time,  the  prickings  of 
my  pencil  had  totalled  as  follows: — The  swift  (or  black 
swallow),  74  ticks;  the  chaffinch  or  "  shilfy,"  46  ticks;  the 
"  cushy  doo  "  or  wood  pigeon,  38  ticks ;  the  "  craw  "  or 
field  rook,  37  ticks;  the  magpie,  23  ticks;  the  mavis,  19 
ticks.  And  this,  though  mightily  uninteresting  to  most 
folk  that  read  or  hear  tales,  is  yet  of  value.  For  it  tells 
what  birds  were  most  plentiful  in  our  Galloway  woodlands 
on  a  certain  May  morning  in  the  j^ear  of  grace  17 — .  Also, 
when  this  history  comes  to  deal  with  the  matters  to  which 
it  led,  this  boy's  frolic  of  ours  is  worth  noting.  Also,  in 
a  long,  weary  travel,  it  is  none  such  an  ill  way  of  passing 
time. 

Now  at  this  lame  and  impotent  conclusion  of  our  wager, 
right  fretful  was  our  large-boned  Jasper. 

"  Since  neither  of  us  hath  won,"  he  cried,  petulantly, 
"  come,  my  brisk  lad — come,  I'll  toss  you  for  it!" 

Now  this  spinning  of  a  king's  effigy  in  the  air  hath 
ever  seemed  to  me  a  yet  more  foolish  affair  than  the  laying 

25 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

of  a  plain  wager.  So  I  made  a  demur,  alleging  (though, 
as  1  knew,  quite  uselessl}^)  that  though  neither  of  our 
birds  had  come  out  first,  yet  since  my  shilfy  had  beaten 
his  crow,  the  stakes  were  therefore  mine. 

"  Arrant  cowcake,"  cried  he,  after  his  natural  rude  man- 
ner of  speech,  "  the  fellow  who  bet  on  the  black  swallow — 
he  won  or  nobody  did.  You,  my  friend,  wagered  on  the 
shilfy.  Therefore,  whoever  won,  you  certainly  lost,  and 
so  the  money  is  forfeit  to  the  pool.  Now  then,  Mr.  Max- 
well, let  us  spin  a  coin  as  to  whose  the  two  good  crown 
pieces  shall  be." 

And  he  paused  with  a  lucky  groat  on  his  thumb-nail, 
of  which  coin  he  was  greatly  enamored. 

"  See  here,  Jasper,"  I  said,  making  a  final  remon- 
strance, "  this  is  still  greater  folly.  For  if  I  win,  I  must 
treat  you  at  the  nearest  public-house.  And  so,  in  like 
manner,  if  you  are  in  luck.  'Tis  an  inn-keeper's  dodge, 
this  daft  coin-spinning,  depend  on't!  Better  keep  that 
crown  of  yours  to  buy  a  fairing  for  pretty  Mistress  Toi- 
nette !" 

But  of  course  he  would  hear  no  reason,  being  filled  with 
the  glory  of  the  May  morning,  like  a  young  colt  ramping 
with  good  feeding  and  lack  of  exercise. 

So  "  his  Majesty !"  I  cried  at  last,  to  quiet  him,  since 
no  other  might  be.  And  lo !  there  on  the  green  turf  was 
King  George,  his  image  and  superscription  uppermost, 
as  if  he  had  sprung  up  with  the  daisies. 

"  Hand  over!"  quoth  I,  with  intent  to  provoke;  whereat 
Jasper  said  something  pretty  round,  and  clinked  the  coins 
most  reluctantly  into  my  palm. 

"  This  wagering  is  none  so  dusty  a  business,  after  all," 
said  I;  "faith,  this  will  liuy  me  the  Ben  .Tonson,  his 
plays  in  folio,  that  I  so  much  desire.  'Tis  indeed  a  great 
game,  the  wagering!" 

But  for  the  moment  Jasper  was  sulky,  though  the 
gambler's  never-failing  resource  came  upon  him. 

2G 


SILVER     SAND— THE     WAGER 

"  Double  or  quits !"  he  cried,  pulling  out  half  a  guinea 
from  his  fob. 

"  Nay,''  said  I,  suavely,  "  I  promised  my  mother  never 
to  gamble.  '  'Tis  wicked,'  says  she,  '  and,  more  than  that, 
you  might  lose !"  So  I'll  stick  to  my  promise  to  my 
mother,  thanks  to  you  all  the  same,  Jasper  Jamie !" 

"  You  are  a  great  coward,"  he  cried,  very  angrily ;  "  you 
win,  and  then  you  will  neither  give  a  man  his  revenge  nor 
yet  a  pint  stoup  of  ale  to  wash  down  his  ill-nature  withal !" 

So,  knowing  that  he  would  not  be  content  otherwise,  I 
bade  him  lead  the  way  to  the  nearest  change-house.  For, 
though  1  had  no  pleasure  in  liquor  (which,  indeed,  is  for 
great-boned,  well-stomached  folk),  I  had  never  intended 
aught  else,  either  by  the  way  or  in  the  good  burgh  town  of 
Dumfries,  where  excellent  excisable  stuff  has  been  vendible 
ever  since  the  first  inhabitant  set  up  a  shebeen  on  the 
easterly  shore  to  corrupt  the  honest  travellers  from  the 
adjacent  free  and  temperate  province  of  Galloway. 

And  so  by  the  wild,  benty  hill-side  of  Barclosh,  and  over 
the  trembling  green  bogs  of  the  Knock  Burn,  we  made 
straight  as  a  die  for  Tarkirra,  that  remarkable  place  of 
public  entertainment  among  the  muirlands,  where  the 
gray  granite  bowlders  lie  thickest,  and  the  reek  of  the  un- 
licensed "  kiln  "  steals  most  frequently  up  the  face  of  the 
precipice. 


V 

THE    INN    OF    TARKIRRA 

IT  was  no  ordinary  change-house;  so  much  is  certain. 
Nor  yet  were  they  common  muirland  folk  that  made 
assignation  there,  as  well  I  saw  so  soon  as  I  lifted  the 
latch  to  enter.  And  right  sorry  was  T  that  we  had  two  such 
good  beasts  with  us,  as  Jasper  and  I  had  perforce  to  leave 
tied  up  to  the  rings  let  into  the  wall  of  unwhitewashed 
masonry  which  surrounded  the  little  steading  of  Tarkirra. 

"  Ye  are  welcome,  kind  sirs !"  So  a  voice,  harsh  as  a 
frog's  croak,  greeted  us  as  we  set  our  noses  within,  and  a 
strange-looking  being  moved  out  from  the  dusky  glow  of 
the  foul  fireplace  into  the  clearer  light  that  streamed  from 
the  glasslcss  window.  The  speaker  was  a  dwarf,  with  long 
arms  that  wambled  from  side  to  side  as  he  hirpled  about 
the  house  or  sat  crouching  like  a  beast  in  the  corner.  His 
gnarled  thighs  and  outjointed  knees  prevented  quick  move- 
ment, but  he  rocked  himself  to  and  fro  as  he  went  on  con- 
cocting his  messes  over  the  red  peat  fire  upon  the  unraked 
hearth. 

"  Ow  ay,"  this  fearsome  carl  chuckled,  without  taking 
any  further  notice  of  us ;  "  ye'll  no  ken  me,  but  ony  o'  thae 
decent  men  by  the  fireside  will  tell  ye  wha'  T  am.  '  Grisly 
Tam  o'  Tarkirra,'  they  caa'  me  in  their  daflin'.  But  when 
they  wad  hae  puir  auld  Tam  to  fill  the  pint  stoup,  when 
they  hae  sma'  siller  to  pay  for  it,  it's  nae  less  than  Laird 
Tarkirra  that  they  will  set  their  tongues  to,  the  vaiga- 
bonds !" 

28 


THE     INX     OF     TAEKIRRA 

As  the  darkness  of  the  evil-smelling  little  cothouse 
gradually  melted  down  before  our  eyes,  through  the  reek 
of  a  score  of  pipes  and  the  downblow  of  a  narrow  chimney, 
we  could  see  that  the  place  was  occupied  by  wellnigh  a 
dozen  men.  Some  were  lying  stretched  out  on  settles  and 
hard  benches,  others  sat  about  on  chests  and  empty  kegs, 
while  others  again,  of  temperament  less  exacting,  reclined 
on  the  earthen  floor  with  no  better  protection  than  a 
ragged  cloak.  And  for  a  long  minute  no  man  said  a  word 
to  us,  but  their  eyes  followed  our  every  movement  as  if  we 
had  been  not  only  intruders,  but  spies  as  well. 

"  A  good  day  to  you,  gentlemen  all !"  I  said,  trying  a 
genial  tone  in  order  to  pacify  them ;  "  'tis  a  sultry  morn- 
ing without,  and  the  promise  of  a  hot  day  for  the  time  of 
year.  Will  you  do  us  the  honor  of  taking  a  glass  with  us 
of  the  best  our  host  can  provide  ?" 

"  Ay,"  cried  Jasper,  incautiously,  "  come  all  of  you 
and  drink.  'Tis  my  friend  and  no  other  that  has  the  siller 
to  pay  for  it.  He  has  just  rooked  me  of  a  wager,  and 
stands  committed  to  baptize  his  gains  with  a  tankard  of 
mountain  dew," 

Then,  from  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room,  some  one 
spoke  out  sharp  and  sudden: 

"  And  who  may  you  be,  my  fine  young  gallants,  who 
flutter  it  so  bravely  thus  early  in  the  morning  ?  Put  names 
to  your  head-pieces  ere  ye  ask  gentlemen  to  drink  with 
you.  Think  ye  that  in  asking  us  to  pledge  you,  ye  are 
flinging  bones  to  a  score  of  tinkler's  messans?" 

"  Tinklers  ye  are,"  chuckled  the  dwarf  landlord ;  "  and 
v\diat  better  could  ye  wish  to  be  when  twa  young  lords 
come  to  veesit  ye,  mounted  on  sic  beasts  as  yon  that  are 
flaffin'  the  flees  wi'  their  tails  at  the  dyke-end  o'  Tar- 
kirra  ?" 

Then  I  answered  first,  having,  in  the  absence  of  quali- 
ties more  heroic,  some  readiness  of  the  tongue. 

"  I  am  Maxwell  Heron  by  name,  the  son  of  the  Laird  of 

39 


THE     DAEK     0'     THE     MOON 

liathan.  Over  there  is  my  friend  Jasper  Jamieson,  the 
painter's  son,  out  of  Edinburgh  town." 

The  man  who  had  spoken  took  a  stride  nearer  to  me, 
and  I  could  see  his  face  now — a  dark  and  many-scarred 
physiognomy,  crowned  with  a  thick  thatch  of  hair,  blue- 
black  brindled  freely  with  streaks  of  purest  white,  like 
sheep  ribs  scattered  over  the  heather  of  a  hill-side. 

"  Ah !"  he  said,  smiling  sardonically,  "  Patrick  Heron's 
son,  is  it  ?  It  sticks  in  my  mind  that  you  had  '  John  Faa  ' 
tacked  to  the  front  of  your  name  when  you  were  christened. 
What  has  become  of  that  ?  Are  ye  ashamed  of  the  name  of 
Faa  that  now  ye  say  no  word  of  it  ?" 

"  Nay,"  answered  I,  readily,  "  neither  shamed  nor  for- 
getful. 'Tis  an  older  name  than  any  in  Galloway — 
ay,  older  even  than  MacCulloch  and  ]\IacDouall,  which  arc 
our  oldest.  But,  thanks  to  a  friendly  heaven,  my  friend 
John  Faa,  Lord  and  Earl  of  Inttle  Egypt,  is  not  dead  yet. 
He  comes  oft  about  our  house  of  Kathan,  and  for  that 
reason  I  do  not  use  every  day  a  name  that  belongs  to  an- 
other." 

"  Ah,  Silver  Sand !  he  is  the  great  man  ever !"  croaked 
the  dwarf,  with  a  glance  of  covert  provocation  towards  his 
principal  guest. 

The  darkish-visaged  man  with  the  brindled  hair  un- 
covered a  set  of  glittering  teeth  in  a  sneer. 

"Ah,  John  Faa  is  indeed  ever  the  great  man, ".he  said, 
as  though  every  word  were  a  bite.  "  You  say  right,  Grisly 
Tam,  there  is  nothing  he  will  not  do  for  tbeni  that  have 
no  claim  on  him,  that  are  never  one  drop's  blood  to  him  ! 
But  to  us — bone  of  his  bone — " 

"The  glasses,  landlord!"  cried  jovial  Jasper,  interrupt- 
ing; "'tis  dry  work  argufying.  We  were  better  employed 
melting  these  crowns  of  young  Laird  Rathan's." 

In  another  moment  the  dwarf  was  chuckling  and  tink- 
ling glasses  and  pint  stoups  about  the  table,  but  not  a  man 
stirred  till  he  of  the  brindled  locks,  with  a  wave  of  his 

30 


THE     INN     OF     TARKIEEA 

hand,  gave  them  his  permission  to  partake.  And  then 
they  came  readily  enough,  all  swank,  sunburned  fellows, 
lathy  and  tall,  and,  as  I  could  see,  well  armed  with  pistols 
and  whingers. 

I  understood  it  at  once.  We  had  put  our  heads  into  a 
regular  smugglers'  nest,  and  no  mere  "  white  smugglers  " 
either — that  is,  small  farmers'  and  cottiers'  sons,  taken  to 
the  free  traffic  for  a  few  dollars  and  the  fun  of  it.  These 
men  were  "  black  "  smugglers  of  the  most  determined  sort, 
outlawed  hill  gypsies  mostly,  the  scourings  and  out-sweep- 
ings of  the  narrow  seas,  to  whom  sticking  a  knife  into 
a  man  came  as  easy  as  a  whiff  of  East  India  tobacco 
to  a  Dutch  skipper — though,  indeed,  weakling  as  I  was, 
I  had  no  right  to  speak  on  that  last  account,  with  Jasper 
Jamie  sitting  opposite  to  me  upon  a  certain  triangular 
scar. 

But  I  stood  up  to  our  fate  as  well  as  I  could ;  and  as  for 
Jasper,  whose  perception  of  affairs  was  by  no  means  in 
proportion  to  his  size,  he  rattled  on,  as  usual,  with  a 
world  of  nonsense,  touching  glasses  with  this  one,  hob- 
nobbing with  that  other,  all  the  while  making  a  mighty 
jest  of  the  squandering  of  my  gains,  and  telling  over  about 
the  "  shilfies  "  and  the  black  crows  as  if  it  had  been  the 
wittiest  jest  that  ever  was  heard  tell  of.  But  that  was  also 
of  a  constancy  the  way  with  Jasper,  and  is  so,  I  think,  with 
most  big-bodied  men,  who  bite  so  hard  upon  one  end  of  a 
jest  that  they  never  get  time  to  consider  the  other. 

So  it  fell  out,  at  least,  on  this  occasion.  For  I  could 
see  the  wink  and  nod  that  went  on  all  about  us,  the  jerked 
thumbs,  the  secret  finger  play,  the  questioning  arch  of  the 
eyebrows,  the  backward  nod  of  the  head.  And  I  judged 
that  even  if  our  throats  were  not  in  danger  (and  of  that 
I  was  by  no  means  sure)  of  a  certainty,  Selim  and  Morna, 
ray  father's  two  good  beasts,  haltered  out  there  by  the 
wall,  stood  a  warm  chance  of  having  their  marks  doctored 
before  the  next  "  Jeddart  fair." 

31 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

Yet  I  said  nothing,  but  stood  up  to  the  evil-tasting 
liquor  and  pledged  the  crowled  little  squintard  of  a  host, 
and  also,  when  I  could  get  near  him,  my  fellow  of  the 
brindled  hair — pledged  and  better  pledged  till  my  eyes 
stelled  in  my  head.  For  being  by  nature  no  great  fighter, 
I  had  all  my  days  the  instinct  of  the  weak  as  to  whom  it 
is  well  to  keep  in  with. 

After  the  first  glass  or  two  this  man  seemed  to  mellow, 
asking  me  as  to  my  mother  and  her  health,  with  other 
questions  which  showed  no  small  knowledge  of  our  con- 
cerns at  Isle  Rathan. 

"How  came  you  to  be  acquaint  with  my  mother,  sir?" 
I  said.  "  Did  you  know  her  before  she  married  my 
father?" 

For,  indeed,  I  was  very  sure  I  had  never  seen  the  man 
about  the  house  of  Rathan  in  my  life,  and  T  considered  it 
unlikely  that  my  good  mother  had  any  acquaintance  of 
whom  I  had  not  heard.  For  she  was  very  free-spoken  by 
nature  and  fond  of  telling  tales  of  her  scapegrace  youth, 
sometimes  to  the  no  small  confusion  of  my  father,  who  of 
late  had  begun  to  set  up  for  a  grave  man  of  years  and 
affairs. 

"  Ay,  some  time  before  her  marriage  it  was  that  I  knew 
]\ristress  May  Maxwell." 

"  At  her  father's  house  of  Craigdarroch,  was  it  ?" 

At  my  question  his  smile  grew  yet  more  grim. 

"  I  had  once  the  pleasure  of  your  mother's  company 
upon  a  journey,"  he  said,  tartly  enough,  which  saying 
dumfoundcd  me  still  more,  for  I  had  all  my  mother's 
journeyings  by  heart,  having  had  them  retailed  to  me  a 
thousand  times  in  the  days  of  my  youth. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  said  I,  looking  directly  up  at  him, 
"  if  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  tell  me  your  name 
I  may  chance  to  know  you,  for  my  mother's  friends  are 
mine," 

"  My  name  you  shall  know  in  good  time,"  he  answered. 

32 


THE     INN     OF    TARKIEEA 

•'  At  present  it  would  serve  no  purpose,  and  is  best  given 
the  go-by." 

Whilst  Jasper  Jamieson  and  I  were  thus  mis-spending 
the  clear-aired,  high-roofed  summer  day  amid  the  foul 
reek  of  a  hovel,  there  came  from  without  a  sound  that 
by  its  effect  upon  our  companions  was  evidently  a  signal. 
It  was  the  lowing  of  a  cow,  growing  louder  and  more 
insistent,  like  one  that  has  waited  too  long  for  the  milker's 
hand. 

Instantly  the  men  gathered  about  their  leader,  and  he 
of  the  Brindled  Locks  spoke  in  whispers  to  them.  Then 
he  went  cautiously  to  the  door  to  find  out  where  lay  the 
danger.  But  on  the  threshold  he  met  the  dwarf  coming 
in. 

"  It  is  Robin  Trevor,  the  Dumfries  ganger,  with  one 
companion  —  a  better  -  looking  man  than  himself,"  he 
panted,  his  tongue  hanging  out  of  his  mouth  like  that  of 
a  dog  on  a  hot  trail.  "  They  are  coming  this  way !  What 
shall  we  do  ?    I  shall  be  ruined  !" 

"  Do  ?"  answered  Brindled  Locks.  "  There  is  but  one 
thing  to  do,  man,  and  we  must  do  it." 

"  No  in  my  hoose !"  cried  the  dwarf,  jerking  his  hands 
and  arms  outward  from  the  elbows  in  such  spasms  that 
the  joints  cracked.  "  Kill  gin  ye  like,  but  shed  no  man's 
blood  on  my  doorstep,  and  before  witnesses.  For  though 
ye  can  gang  where  ye  will  and  naething  said,  puir  Tam  o' 
Tarkirra  maun  stay  here  and  bear  the  brunt  o'  your  mis- 
deeds !" 

"  Peace,  3'OU  crippled  fool !"  said  the  other.  "  What 
need  to  shed  blood?  I  know  a  place  among  the  sands  of 
Barnhourie  that  will  do  the  business  of  a  whole  regiment 
of  gangers,  and  never  a  mound  or  a  burial  hillock  to  tell 
the  tale !" 

During  this  colloquy  I  was  stepping  to  the  other  door, 
having  touched  Jasper  on  the  elbow  to  follow  me,  when  I 
was  suddenly  called  back. 

3  33 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

"  Stand  where  you  are,  young  Rathan !"'  cried  he  of  the 
Brindles.  "  Ye  have  heard  overly  much  for  your  skin's 
safety,  my  good  lad.  To  the  door,  Grice !  Your  pistols, 
gentlemen !" 

And  with  a  certain  grave  courtesy  he  disarmed  us. 


VI 

THE   DOOM  OF   THE  GAUGERS 

WITHIN  the  change-house  of  Tarkirra  there  was  si- 
lence— the  breathing  silence  of  many  men  all  lis- 
tening and  waiting.  I  do  not  know  what  was  in  Jasper's 
mind,  but  I  was  minded  to  cry  a  warning  through  the 
closed  door  as  I  heard  the  King's  officers  ride  up.  But 
beside  me  stood  the  man  with  the  brindled  hair,  a  knife 
in  his  hand.  He  laid  the  palm  of  his  left  on  ray  shoulder. 
By  that  I  knew  that  if  I  did  cry  out  I  should  merely  throw 
away  my  own  life  without  benefiting  those  without.  So, 
in  the  circumstances,  I  held  my  peace. 

Then  there  came  the  noise  of  heavily  shod  heels  upon 
the  cobbles  without.  Tlie  butt  of  a  riding-whip  clanged 
sharply  on  the  door. 

"  Open  there,  in  the  King's  name !" 

The  command  came  in  strong,  masterful  tones.  A  sick- 
ness welled  up  in  my  heart  when  I  thought  of  the  quick- 
sands of  Barnhourie,  and  would  so  soon  close  those  bold, 
imperious  lips. 

"  Open,  I  say,  Tam  the  Dwarf !  It  will  be  the  worse  for 
you,  if  you  do  not!  I  come  to  search  the  house.  I  have 
been  watching  you  for  months  V 

"  Then  I  fear  ye  havena  watched  sharp  eneuch  this 
mornin',  whatever !"  chuckled  the  dwarf,  below  his  breath. 
He  was  leaning  forward  with  a  grin  of  anticipation  on 
his  face.  The  thought  of  men  dying  was  meat  and  drink 
to  him,  so  be  that  the  blood  was  not  shed  on  his  doorstep. 

35 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

The  man  with  the  brindled  hair  motioned  him  to  open  the 
door,  and  he  moved  sluggishly  to  obey,  trailing  one  foot 
over  the  other  audibly  as  he  went. 

"Comin',  sirs,  comin',  as  fast  as  a  puir  auld  cripple 
can  hotch !"  he  cried,  so  that  the  excisemen  could  hear. 

"  Faster  !  faster  !"  the  voice  came  from  without,  fortified 
with  an  impatient  kicking  and  rapping  on  the  old  door 
which  made  the  iron  stanchions  shake  in  their  sockets. 
"  You  were  none  so  lame  when  you  were  carrying  the  kegs 
of  good  French  brandy  into  your  thieves'  holes,  I  warrant ! 
But  1  have  you  this  time,  Grisly  Tam !  The  cargo  of  the 
Harkaway  was  landed  on  Wednesday.  I  have  traced  it 
here,  and  it  has  never  gone  over  the  hill  of  Tarkirra !" 

The  dwarf  opened  the  door. 

"Will  ye  please  to  step  ben,  an'  see  for  yoursel',  IMr. 
Supervisor?"  he  said,  very  huml)ly  standing  aside. 

"  You  need  not  deny  it.  Tarn.  1  know  you  of  old. 
There  never  was  a  cargo  brought  to  the  Dutchman's  Hole 
but  you  had  your  finger  in  the  pie.  And  this  time  you 
have,  as  I  judge,  got  the  whole  pie — and  the  dish,  too ! 
What  filthy  pigs  have  been  here?"  lie  paused  on  the 
threshold,  sniffing  disgustedly  at  the  tobacco  reek  which 
was  pouring  out  from  the  kitchen,  and  I  thought  that  per- 
chance he  might  take  warning  even  then. 

"  Only  twa-thrce  decent  herd  lads  alt'  the  hill,"  said  the 
landlord.     "Will  ye  please  to  enter,  sir?" 

"  Then  whose  horses  are  those  at  the  gate  out  there  ?" 
he  inquired,  abruptly. 

"  Juist  the  young  laird  o'  Rathan's  an'  a  friend  o'  his. 
They  lookit  in  at  auld  Tam's  for  thwir  mornin'  and  a  word 
o'  daffin'." 

"  What  ?  Patrick  Heron's  son  !  I  must  have  a  look  at 
him!    This  is  no  place  for  the  boy!" 

Then  I  could  contain  myself  no  longer.  In  spite  of  the 
knife-point  so  near  my  ear  I  shouted  a  warning  to  the  bold 
gauger  without. 

36 


THE    DOOM     OF     THE     GAUGEES 

"  Keep  away  I"  I  cried ;  "  run  for  your  life  !  There's 
death  here !" 

"  What's  this — what's  this  r  Stand  out  of  my  way, 
sirrah  !    In  the  King's  name  !" 

And  I  heard  the  rattle  of  the  dwarf's  bones  as  he  was 
whirled  back  against  the  wall. 

A  very  tall  man  pushed  open  the  inner  door  and  strode 
recklessly  within,  his  spurs  clicking,  and  his  hand  on  his 
sword-hilt.  He  stood  against  the  light,  trying  to  dis- 
tinguish objects  in  the  gloomy  house-place  of  the  Tarkirra 
Inn,  as  easily  and  boldly  as  though  he  had  been  making  his 
promenade  of  the  plain-stones  of  Dumfries  upon  a  mar- 
ket day.  I  admired  him  vastly.  For  though  I  made  no 
sort  of  manly  figure  myself,  all  the  more  did  I  admire 
those  who  do. 

But  on  this  occasion  there  was  not  much  time  for 
admiration  or  anything  else.  All  passed  as  swiftly  as  a 
swallow  flashes  athwart  the  window,  swooping  after  a 
gnat  in  the  summer  twilight. 

"  Whom  have  we  here — whom  have  we  here  ?  Ah ! 
Would  you  ?  Treachery  !  Out  of  this,  Trevor  !  Eide  and 
warn — " 

But  further  speech  was  shut  within  him,  as  the  two 
men  became  the  centre  of  a  swarm  of  men,  who  sprang 
upon  them  simultaneously  from  every  side.  At  the  same 
time  I  heard  the  dwarf  close  the  outer  door,  and  the 
sound  of  yet  another  struggle  in  the  narrow,  earth-floored 
passage-way  which  led  to  the  kitchen.  That  was  Jasper 
trying  to  make  his  way  to  the  horses. 

"  So,  Sir  Supervisor,"  said  Brindled  Locks,  stooping 
over  him,  as  he  lay  helpless,  "  you  are  a  bigger  fish  than 
I  thought  to  see  in  the  nets  this  day !  But  now  I  will  show 
you  what  it  is  to  put  vour  black  spite  on  Hector  Faa !" 

"  Hector  Faa !" 

The  name  came  upon  me  like  a  thunder-clap.  The 
twenty-years'  outlaw,  the  daring  smuggler,  the  buccaneer, 

37 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

the  almost  pirate !  He  it  was  who  in  the  days  of  the 
Great  Hill  fighting  had  carried  off  my  mother  from  the 
great  cave  on  Isle  Eathan.  He  it  was  who,  escaping 
all  perils  of  snow  and  storm,  had  found  his  way  to  France, 
and  from  thence  had  made  shift  to  avenge  himself  upon 
the  country  which  had  outcasted  him. 

For  a  while  the  trapped  exciseman  said  nothing,  staring 
upward  into  the  eyes  of  his  enemy  from  the  floor,  where 
he  lay  bound  and  helpless. 

"  Now,"  said  the  gypsy,  truculently,  "  you  have  come  to 
the  far  end  of  your  man-hunting,  my  brisk  lad !" 

He  stooped  down  and  set  his  hand  on  tbe  gold  lace  upon 
his  captive's  shoulder.  For  Mr.  Supervisor  Craig  was  a 
handsome  man,  and  dressed  accordingly.  Hector  Faa  tore 
the  epaulet  off  by  sheer  strength.  For  in  those  da3'^s  the 
higher  excisemen  were  King's  officers,  and  wore  such 
badges  of  rank. 

"  Was  it  not  enough  for  you  to  cliase  me  on  the  high 
seas  when  you  were  in  King  George's  nav}',  without  hunt- 
ing me  with  dogs  after  you  got  your  own  snug  berth 
ashore?  Better  for  you,  my  lad,  had  you  stuck  to  the 
salt  junk  and  cask-Avater  yet  awhile,  than  have  fallen  into 
Hector  Faa's  clutches !" 

"  I  have  a  wife !"  said  the  officer  of  excise,  almost 
meditatively.    It  was  his  sole  appeal  for  life. 

Hector  Faa  drew  back  his  hand,  and  I  could  see  the 
fingers  firm  and  close,  as  if  to  strike. 

"  Ay,  and  so  had  I !"  he  cried,  his  voice  filling  the  house. 
"  Eighteen  years  ago  so  had  I !  But  from  yon  sliore  I  saw 
the  brig  in  which  she  sailed  sink  into  blue  Sohva}',  and 
not  a  soul  within  her  saved !  And  who  commanded  on  the 
King's  ship  that  sank  her?  By  whose  orders  were  the 
guns  shotted  and  tiie  lanyards  pulled?  Answer  me  that, 
good  Mr.  Supervisor  Craig." 

"  Not  by  mine,"  answered  the  officer,  calmly.  "  I  was 
no  more  than  a  lad  of  ten  at  that  time." 

38 


[ECTOR    PA  A    TORE    THE   EPAULET    OFF    BY    SHEER    STKEXGTH 


THE     DOOM     OF     THE     GAUCtERS 

"  No !"  the  gypsy  thundered  in  reply,  making  the  very 
rafters  shake  with  his  vehemence.  "  No,  not  you,  but 
your  father,  Captain  Elihu  Craig,  of  the  WaterwitcJi !  In 
the  bay  of  Rough  Isle,  between  Castle  Point  and  the  White 
Horses,  there,  with  his  bow-chasers,  he  sank  the  Bonne 
Fortune,  of  Bordeaux.  That  was  a  bad  day's  work  for  the 
house  of  Craig.  But  since  with  the  Fortune  went  down 
Elise,  the  wife  of  Hector  the  gypsy,  it  became  disastrous ! 
And  now  you,  Mr.  Supervisor,  are  to  draw  up  the  net 
that  your  father  let  down.  Ye  will  find  it  a  bonny 
fishing !" 

"  My  father  did  but  his  duty,  sir,"  answered  the  bold 
exciseman,  "  even  as  in  spite  of  your  threats  I  shall  do 
mine.  That  your  wife  was  on  board  a  smuggling  craft — 
thrice  summoned  to  surrender  before  being  fired  upon — 
could  be  no  fault  of  my  father's,  any  more  than  it  was 


mine 


I" 


"  Enough !"  said  Hector.  "  Since  the  auld  cock  hath 
flown  over  the  wa'  o'  the  kirkyaird,  we  will  e'en  thraw  the 
neck  of  the  young  bird !  To  the  sands  of  Barnhourie  with 
them — the  ganger  and  his  mate!  And  as  for  these 
pleasant  young  gentlemen  " — he  turned  to  us  as  he  spoke — 
— "  pack  them  on  their  horses,  and  we  will  show  them  that 
Buchan's  Dungeon  is  a  safer  hold  than  the  gaol  o'  Dum- 
fries, and  that  where  the  writ  of  King  Geordie,  that  gra- 
cious Dutchman,  never  ran,  there  are  yet  men  who  obey  the 
finger-wag  of  Hector  Faa !" 


VII 

THE    HEAD    OF    THE    HOUSE 

DOWN  in  the  low  country  of  Rathan  the  preparations 
for  my  rescue  were  rendered  more  difficult  by  an  un- 
foreseen occurrence.  Ordinarily,  if  one  of  my  standing, 
with  a  father  so  well  known,  and  a  mother  so — well,  a 
mother  like  my  mother — had  been  taken  by  the  outlaws 
and  sequestered  for  ransom,  the  whole  country-side  would 
have  risen  to  our  aid  as  one  man.  But  in  the  hurly-burly 
of  a  little  Servile  Rebellion,  I  came  near  hand  to  being 
forgotten. 

It  may  be  that  the  reader  has  heard  of  one  Sammle 
Tamson  and  his  wife  Eppie,  sometime  indwellers  of  the 
white  cot-house  of  Mossdale  on  the  flowe  of  Bennan. 

If  not,  I  will  say  no  more  than  that  Sammle  was  a  long 
man,  loosely  built  of  frame,  sane  and  kindly  as  to  his 
heart,  but  with  his  upper  works  somewhat  damaged,  and 
with  a  memory  altogether  wool-gathering  and  unreliable. 
His  wife  Eppie  was  the  opposite  of  her  good  man  on  all 
these  counts.  In  person  she  was  a  short,  well-to-see,  rosy- 
cheeked,  buxom,  of  great  precision  and  readiness  of  tongue, 
and  of  unparalleled  instancy  and  vigor  in  action.  In 
short,  she  couhl  bite,  thougli  generally  she  only  barked. 

These  two  liad  followed  for  long  the  fortunes  of  the 
house  of  Heron,  in  good  repute  and  in  ill.  Sammle,  with 
his  long  limbs  and  his  unshaken  belief  in  the  infallibility 
of  his  wife  Eppie.  proved  himself  no  mean  instrument, 
having  in  that  hard  matrimonial  school  learned  to  obev 

40 


THE     HEAD     OF     THE     HOUSE 

orders  at  the  run  and  withont  the  asking  of  many  ques- 
tions. 

Eppie  and  Sammle  Tamson  now  dwelt  in  the  old  Tower 
of  Rathan  Isle,  for  our  new  dwelling-place  was  built  upon 
the  mainland  to  the  left  of  the  village  of  Orraland,  on  a 
pleasant  brae  with  a  far-extending  view  of  the  sea  and 
of  the  blowing  sails  of  ships  coming  up  the  Firth  with  the 
tide.  It  was  a  somewhat  less  romantical,  but  an  infinite- 
ly more  convenient  and  amenable  place  of  residence  than 
the  little  sea-girt  tower  in  which  I  had  first  seen  tlio 
light  of  day  and  tried  (no  doubt)  to  outscream  the  sea- 
mews. 

The  long  man  was  my  father's  general  factotum — or,  in 
the  language  of  the  country-side  (and  also  of  Scots  law), 
his  "  doer."  But  Eppie  was  generally  looked  upon  as  the 
constructive  and  compulsive  brain,  and  Sammle  only  as 
the  very  imperfect  instrument.  So  it  came  about  that  it 
was  the  general  will  and  desire  of  all  our  tenants  to  "  keep 
far  ben  wi'  Eppie " — or,  in  other  words,  to  be  assured 
that  Eppie's  word  and  interest  was  theirs  in  asking  any 
favor  of  my  father,  and  specially  such  as  concerned  stead- 
ing roofs  to  be  thatched  or  rights  of  grazing  over  adjacent 
moorland  commonties. 

It  was  over  these  last  that  all  the  pother  began  between 
the  lairds  and  the  better-class  of  farmers  with  their  well- 
wishers  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  cottiers  and  poor  folk 
generally  on  the  other.  Doubtless  there  were  rights  on 
both  sides — ignorance  and  prejudice  also.  The  landlords 
were  all  for  turning  out  the  small  tenantry  to  make  room 
for  large  farms,  and  shutting  off  villagers  from  ancient 
grazing  rights,  in  order  to  fence  enclosures  for  the  rearing 
of  black  cattle.  Hence,  for  a  year  or  two  past,  the  ill- 
feeling  had  been  groAving,  and  the  cottiers,  angry  and 
suspicious,  were  full  of  threatenings  and  unbalanced  hu- 
mors. 

We  find  Sammle  Tamson,  of  the  tower  of  Rathan,  pre- 

41 


THE     DARK     0'    THE     MOON 

paring  to  go  out  upon  his  rounds.  He  had  been  more  than 
ordinarily  aggravating  that  morning,  and  the  temper  of 
his  wife  had  in  consequence  veered  gradually  more  and 
more  to  the  east,  from  which  snell  direction  it  threatened 
to  blow  a  hurricane  of  some  duration.  Marion,  Sammle's 
daughter,  was  from  home,  but  then  Marion  was  a  privi- 
leged person,  coming  and  going  without  even  Eppie  saying 
"  whither  goest  thou  ?" 

"  Did  I  ever  see  siccan  a  man  in  my  born  days  ?"  the 
latter  cried,  coming  to  the  door  of  the  little  "  chaumer  " 
(the  same  in  which  I  was  born)  ;  "  did  I  no  tell  ye  to  put 
on  a  clean  sark  this  mornin',  when  ye  will  hae  to  appear 
afore  your  betters.  And  what  do  I  find?  T  gang  to  the 
basket  for  the  dirty  claes,  and  there  amang  dishclouts  and 
fioorcloots — ay,  an'  the  fyled  blankets  o'  the  last  sax 
months,  even  there  3^e  hae  gane  and  stuffit  the  bonny  frilled 
sark  o'  seventeen  hunder  linen,  that  I  goffered  and  ruffled 
wi'  my  a  in  hands  in  the  sweat  o'  my  broo !  Talk  o'  man 
earning  his  bread,  an'  Aidam  haein'  the  curse  o'  labor  laid 
on  him  in  the  gairden  o'  Eden — fegs,  it's  Eppie  Tamson's 
thocht  o't  that  women  hae  their  ain  burden  to  bear  and 
Aidam's,  too.  And  I'm  sure  gin  he  was  as  useless  an' 
tormcntatious  a  hound  in  paradise  itsel'  as  his  kind  are 
unto  this  day,  he  gat  aff  far  ower  cheap.  Mair  like  the 
thing  if  he  had  gotten  share  and  share  aboot  wi'  the  auld 
serpent.  Dust  should  he  hae  eaten,  and  on  his  belly  should 
he  hae  gane  a'  the  days  o'  his  life.  And,  by  my  ccrtes,  it's 
little  better  ye  wad  hae  been  this  day,  Sammle  Tamson,  had 
ye  no  a  weel-handed,  thorough-gaun  wife  to  ready  your 
moat  and  keep  your  nakedness  decently  clad.  And  after 
a'  her  pains  this  is  her  reward.  Ye  gang  and  stuff  a  new 
clean  sark  (that  wad  wcel  hae  becomed  a  lord  o'  Parlia- 
ment) amang  fvled  claiths  and  tarry  hiplocks !  Get  oot 
o'  my  sicht,  man  !  Ye  are  no  a  man  ava',  Sammle  Tamson. 
Ye  are  nae  better  than  a  string  o'  puddens  and  haggises 
that  I  hae  to  fill  at  the  tae  end  wi'  a  spune — and  at  the 

43 


THE     HEAD     OF     THE     HOUSE 

ither-—  What's  that  ye  are  miitterin' to  yoiirsel'?  Let  me 
hear  it  \" 

"■  But,  Eppie,"  said  Sammle,  meekly,  "  ye  ken  that  was 
because  I  had  this  Levellers  business  on  my  mind,  sae  that 
I  had  nae  heart  to  be  deckin'  mysel'  in  purple  and  fine 
linen,  as  ye  micht  say — " 

'''  The  Levellers,  sorrow  fa  a'  them !"  cried  Eppie,  divert- 
ed, as  her  goodman  probably  intended  that  she  should  be, 
to  a  subject  fitted  to  give  less  personal  scope  to  her  linguis- 
tic faculties ;  "  Levellers,  indeed — kinless,  feckless  loons, 
that  can  neither  till  their  grund  nor  yet  be  at  the  trouble 
to  keep  the  craws  frae  their  pickle  seed  corn.  And  when 
the  laird  does  put  his  hand  to,  and  tries  to  improve  the 
face  o'  the  country,  they  are  juist  like  the  man  that  sowed 
tares  in  the  Bible.  They  come  not  but  for  to  steal,  and  for 
to  ding  doon  an'  to  destroy !  Fegs,  gin  I  thocht  that  ye  had 
ony  trokin'  and  come-hithering  wi'  siccan  loons  o'  Satan — 
Sammle  Tamson,  ye  wadna  gang  forth  this  day  wi'  un- 
cloured  harn-pan,  I  can  tell  ye  that,  my  lad !" 

Sammle  was  engaged  in  pulling  on  a  sock  when  this  fell 
threat  reached  him.  He  generally  did  his  personal  needs, 
as  it  were,  piecemeal,  adding  another  article  to  his  toilette 
according  as  he  kicked  against  it  on  the  floor,  or  had  it 
flung  at  his  head  by  his  justly  indignant  spouse. 

"  What  for  dinna  ye  keep  your  socks  thegither  on  a 
chair  like  *ny  ither  decent  man  ?"  she  cried.  "  I  declare 
to  peace  if  I  wasna  a  lang-sufferin'  woman  ye  wad  anger 
me  ane  o'  thae  days !" 

"  Weel,  weel,  wife,  ye  see  I  wad  never  ken  whatna 
chair  it  was  I  had  laid  them  on,  and  as  it  is,  it's  easy  to 
mind !" 

"  How's  that,  ye  seefer  ?"  Eppie  shot  the  question  out 
of  her  mouth  as  peas  leave  the  school  pea-shooter  when  the 
master's  back  is  turned. 

"  Oh,"  said  Sammle,  settling  himself  down  to  an  ex- 
planation, "  as  lang  as  my  stockings  are  on  the  floor,  I  aye 

43 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

ken  whaur  to  find  them.    For  there's  only  yae  floor,  ye  ken. 
But  as  for  chairs — " 

"  But  answer  me  aboot  thae  Levellers,  Sammle,"  she 
said,  abandoning  the  stocking  question,  not  in  despair,  but 
only  putting  it  oS.  till  a  more  convenient  season,  as  it 
were.  "  Dinna  tell  me  that  ye  hae  ony  sympathy  wi'  a 
parcel  o'  run-the-road  ne'er-do-wells  ?" 

Sammle  Tamson  scratched  his  head.  He  had,  indeed, 
gone  rather  more  deeply  into  the  rebellion  than  became  the 
husband  of  a  wife  like  Eppie  and  the  servant  of  a  well- 
considered  country  gentleman  like  my  father,  Patrick 
Heron  of  Isle  Eathan  and  Orraland. 

So  it  was  with  considerable  natural  embarrassment  that 
he  answered  his  wife. 

"  There's  something  to  be  said  for  the  puir  craiturs,  too, 
Eppie,  ye  maun  alloo  !'' 

"  What's  to  be  said  for  them  or  the  like  o'  them,  it  wad 
pleasure  me  to  hear  ye  lay  your  tongue  till't,  Sammle  Tam- 
son? And  you,  a  man  o'  some  poseetion  (whilk  ye  owe  to 
me),  o'  some  siller  (and  that  also  ye  owe  to  me),  and  a 
decently  brushed  Sabbath-coat  to  your  back,  to  gang  col- 
loguin'  wi'  a  set  o'  penniless  loons,  sae  lazy  that  they  wad 
never  get  five  meenites  exercise  were  it  no  for  the  trouble 
they  hae  in  scartin'  themsel's !  Think  shame  o'  yoursel', 
man !  And  ye  hae  never  pitten  on  the  ither  sock  after  a', 
though  ye  hae  on  baith  boots!  Do  ye  mean  to  shame  me 
afore  gentle  and  simple  alike?  Faith,  my  man,  I'll  e'en 
gang  ower  by  to  the  minister's  and  get  him  to  debar  ye 
frae  ordinances.  For  your  ongangin's  and  hcart-breakin' 
contrariness  cause  me  daily  to  fa'  frae  grace — mo  that  hae 
been  a  communicant  for  thirty  odd  years,  and  a  decent 
woman  forbye.  Yesterday,  on  the  sma'est  computation,  I 
used  nae  less  than  six  minced  oaths  till  ye,  ye  lang-leggit, 
spavie-jointod  contriver  o'  ineequitios  tliat  ye  are!" 

With  both  stockings  on,  Sammle  Tamson  went  out.  It 
was  a  blow}'  morning. 

44 


vrii 

THE    LEVELLERS    IN    COUNCIL 

SAMMLE  went  about  the  gable  of  the  house  with  some- 
thing of  the  gait  of  a  dog  that  has  been  kicked  off  a 
doorstep.  It  always  took  him  about  half  a  mile  before 
he  could  recover  his  self-respect  after  one  of  his  mari- 
tal dressings-down — that  is,  unless  he  met  his  daughter 
Marion.    Then  he  recovered  instantly. 

For  at  the  very  sight  of  her  white  apron  glinting  through 
the  birk  copses  and  up  by  the  hawthorn  hedges,  he  would 
begin  to  smile.  On  this  occasion  he  came  upon  her  by  the 
landing-place,  where  one  or  two  boats  were  hauled  up  on 
the  beach  in  shelter  of  a  little  pier. 

Almost  at  any  time  Marion  was,  as  the  country  saying 
goes,  "  a  sicht  for  sair  e'en."  She  and  I  had  always  been 
the  best  of  friends,  all  the  more  that  though  I  admired 
her  greatly — ay,  and  told  her  of  it — I  never  made  love  to 
her.  But  even  disinterested  admiration  does  not  go  with- 
out its  reward.  Marion  took  one  glance  at  her  father's 
woe-begone  expression  and  then  she  burst  into  a  merry 
laugh,  which  showed  teeth  like  milk — small  and  even. 

"  What  was  it  this  morning,  father  ?"  she  cried,  as  she 
came  up  to  him  with  a  hop-skip-and-jump.  "  Are  your 
boots  not  mates?  Did  you  forget  to  take  your  breakfast, 
or  give  it  to  the  dog  without  noticing,  as  you  did  last 
Sunday  ?" 

"  It  was  the  socks,"  said  Sammle,  sadly.  "  I  had  yin  aff 
and  yin  on  when  she  catched  me  at  it.    I  canna  keep  track 

45 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON       ' 

o'  them,  ava' !  I  maun  hae  them  tackit  thegither,  and  then 
I'll  surely  mind !" 

"  And  where  gang  ye  noo,  f  aithcr  ?"  She  turned  as  she 
asked  the  question,  and  accompanied  him  down  to  the 
landing-place  to  help  him  into  his  boat,  For  it  was  as 
likely  as  not  that  Sammle  Tamson  would  push  off  without 
a  single  oar  and  have  to  row  himself  back  with  a  thwart, 
or,  if  that  did  not  occur  to  him,  drift  out  to  sea  helplessly 
till  some  one  put  off  in  pursuit. 

"  Where  am  I  gangin  ?"  said  Sammle,  looking  away  in 
some  embarrassment.  "  On  Maister  Heron's  business — 
what  else  ?" 

His  daughter  stood  directly  in  front  of  him  and  laid  her 
hands  on  his  shoulders.  Then  she  pecked  upward  at  his 
ear,  exactly  like ,  a  bird  that  gives  thanks  after  taking  a 
drink. 

She  whispered  a  single  word,  dropped  down  again  on  her 
heels,  and  pointed  up  at  him  with  her  finger  poised,  and 
an  exceedingly  arch  expression  on  her  face. 

"  Ah  !"  she  said,  triumphantly,  "  you  see,  I  know !" 

"  Guid's  mercy  save  us  !"  gasped  Sammle  Tamson.  "  Ye 
will  surely  never  say  a  word  o'  this  to  your  mither,  lassie?" 

"  Dinna  ye  fear,  faither.  Lassie  I  may  be — I  canna  help 
that ;  but  gin  ye  are  deep  in  this  business,  I  ken  them  that 
are  deeper!" 

And  with  that  Marion  Tamson,  having  seen  her  father 
settled  in  his  boat,  with  the  requisite  number  of  rowlocks 
and  oars,  and  with  his  face  towards  the  stern,  so  tliat  there 
was  a  reasonable  probability  of  liis  reaching  the  Orraland 
shore  (without  turning  more  than  half  a  dozen  circles  and 
catching  an  equal  number  of  crabs),  walked  slowly  and 
thoughtfully  up  to  the  old  Tower  of  Isle  Ratlian. 

But  as  for  Sammle  Tamson,  the  mind  of  that  philoso- 
pher dwelt  vaguely  on  the  troubles  of  the  times — villages 
left  Avitliout  inhabitants,  cruel  taskmasters,  men  who  would 

46 


THE     LEVELLERS     ITsl     COUNCIL 

wrest  away  ancient  rights  of  tilth  and  pasturage,  remove 
the  ancient  landmarks,  enclose,  exclude,  give  up  to  black 
cattle  bred  for  English  markets,  the  scanty  garths  and 
green  gussets  hardly  won  from  the  encompassing  heather 
by  dint  of  the  plough  and  spade  of  untold  peasant  genera- 
tions. 

Among  such  oppressors  of  God's  heritage  he  was  far 
from  including  my  father  Patrick  Heron,  who  was  a  just 
man,  stirring  no  man  from  that  which  had  been  his  for- 
bear's, and  asking  no  more  tl^an  an  easy  quit-rent,  often 
merely  nominal  (and  that  frequently  remitted),  from  the 
poor  cottier  folk  who  had  squatted  on  the  hillward  verges 
of  his  lands. 

Now  Sammle  Tamson  had  in  him  some  of  the  qualities 
of  a  reformer.  His  strange  exterior  concealed  a  keen  and 
eager  spirit.  His  wife  had  trained  him  to  self -repression. 
He  had  among  his  neighbors  a  high  repute  for  probity, 
though  his  absent-mindedness  clouded  his  capacity  for 
action.  It  was  characteristic  of  the  man  that,  though  on 
an  errand  of  great  importance  and  with  his  heart  full  of 
the  oppression  and  injustice  which  ho  saw  around  him, 
he  should  stand  half  an  hour  staring  at  the  pebbles  on 
the  Orraland  shore  before  he  drew  up  his  boat. 

Finally,  recalled  to  himself  by  a  dash  of  rain  in  his  face 
from  a  passing  shower  and  the  tide  M^ashing  simultaneously 
about  his  feet,  he  strode  away  up  the  tangle  of  woodland 
which  fringes  the  bay,  and  in  ten  minutes  was  breasting 
the  brae  towards  the  dark,  heathery  fastnesses  of  Screel. 

The  path  led  him  to  the  left,  in  the  direction  of  the 
narrow  gulley  called  at  that  time  Tudor's  Caldron.  It  is 
a  strange,  deep  gash  riven  in  the  mountain's  side,  secluded 
from  every  haunt  of  man.  and  visited  ])y  none  save  by  the 
wild  goat  that  springs  from  rock  to  rock  along  the  steeply 
shelving  sides. 

As  he  made  his  way  westward,  with  surprising  craft 
Sammle  took  advantage  of  every  cover.     He  followed  the 

47 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

dark  purple  lip  of  a  ])eat  moss  from  which  the  fuel  had 
been  cut  awa}^  for  a  hundred  yards.  He  crouched  behind  a 
bowlder  till  a  wandering  herd  Avith  a  couple  of  scouring 
dogs  passed  off  the  sky-line.  Nevertheless,  it  was  swiftly, 
though  with  the  utmost  circumspection,  that  he  approached 
the  tangle  of  six-foot-long  heather  which  conceals  the  de- 
scent into  the  Caldron  of  Ben  Tudor. 

The  afternoon  had  early  broken  doyn\  into  a  thronging 
procession  of  white  cirrus  cloudlets,  varied  occasionally 
by  one  of  haughtier  build|^  as  some  towering  cumulus 
overrode  the  lift  with  his  bulk  crenellated  like  a  feudal 
keep.  Shining  glints  of  thunder-shower  shot  down  occa- 
sionally from  these,  and  once  Sammle  felt  on  his  face  the 
sting  of  hail.  Having  arrived  at  the  shaggy  verge  of  the 
Caldron,  from  which  through  the  interstices  of  whin, 
broom,  and  rock-climbing  ivy,  he  could  look  into  the  un- 
tracked  and  untravelled  wilderness,  Sammle  lay  down 
on  his  breast  and  studied  the  landscape.  Far  out  to  sea, 
towards  the  open  water  of  the  firth,  a  schooner  hung  off 
and  on,  waiting  for  night  or  tide.  But  Sammle  was  at 
this  time  no  smuggler,  though  possibly  he  might  have 
been  indicted  for  conspiracy. 

"  Wee-wee-ivee !     Wurley-wurley-wee-wee !" 

Thus  Sammle  Tamson  cried  to  the  upland  silences,  and 
up  from  the  pit-bottom,  from  this  clump  of  birch  and  that 
thicket  of  broom  the  voices  of  a  score  of  lambs  replied, 
crying  as  though  they  had  lost  their  mothers — brisk  yet 
pitiful. 

Then,  without  further  pretence  of  concealment,  the 
warden  of  Isle  Rathan  descended  into  Tudor's  Caldron. 

"  Sammle,  ye  are  welcome.  Come  your  ways,  man.  Hoc 
did  ye  get  aff  withoot  Eppie  seeing  ye?  What's  your 
news  ?" 

These  were  some  of  the  greetings  which  reached  the 
long  man's  ears  as  he  stumbled  and  slipped  down  the  last 
precipitous  slopes  of  heather,  and  found  himself  suddenlv 

48 


THE     LEVELLERS     IN     COUNCIL 

in  the  full  parliament  of  the  Levellers.  Twenty  or  thirty 
men  of  all  ages  were  seated  about;  young  men  scant  of 
years  and  beard,  yet  already  brown-faced  and  eagle-eyed. 
Old  men  bent  and  worn  were  there  also.  But  the  most 
part  were  men  of  middle-age,  gray-haired,  a  little  bent 
about  the  shoulders,  and  all  clad  as  uniformly  as  a  king's 
regiment  in  broad  blue  Kilmarnock  bonnets,  rig-and-fur 
stockings,  coat  and  knee-breeches  of  a  saffron-tinted  gray 
homespun,  while  about  every  left  shoulder  a  plaid  checked 
of  black  and  white  was  swung  with  martial  precision. 

These  elders  w^ere  the  representatives  of  the  crofters  and 
cottiers  of  Galloway,  some  of  them  already  dispossessed, 
others  under  warning  to  remove  at  the  next  term,  while 
a  few  of  the  younger  men,  being  without  immediate  stake 
in  the  conflict,  had  joined  the  movement  simply  for  what 
of  excitement  could  be  extracted  from  it. 

"  Weel,  sirs,"  said  Sammle,  taking  his  seat  on  a  con- 
venient bowlder  whose  mossy  upper  surface,  shaped  like 
a  square  gravestone,  formed  a  kind  of  natural  Speaker's 
chair  to  the  assembly,  "  I  hae  grave  tidings.  I  heard  yin 
that  I'll  no  name  (but  that  ye  can  guess  at),  mention  it 
as  hein'  intended  by  the  lairds  o'  Duchrae  and  Grenoch  to 
shift  all  and  hale  o'  the  inhabitants  o'  Whinnyliggate  and 
Crae  Brig  at  the  term.  It  was  mentioned  at  the  lairds' 
meetin'   on  Wednesday  in  Dumfries  toon — " 

An  old  man  rose  from  a  tussock  of  heather. 

"  Deed,  then,  Sammle  Tamson,  an'  ye  say  richt.  This 
will  be  sair  news  for  us  to  carry  to  the  head  end  o' 
Balmaghie,  But  surely  a'  hope  is  no  yet  by  wi't !  We 
will  gang  and  speak  them  fair.  We  will  offer  to  pay  ony 
reasonable  sum  for  the  pasturage  o'  oor  kye  on  the  green 
slopes  o'  the  Bennan,  and  tell  the  laird  that  gin  he  winna 
steer  iis  frae  the  bit  plots  o'  grund  that  were  oor  faithers' 
afore  us  we  will  be  his  faithfu'  servants,  as  in  former 
times — " 

"  It  is  ower  late,  I  misdoot,"  began  Sammle.  But  from 
*  49 


THE     DAEK    0'    THE    MOON 

the  further  side  of  the  Caldron  of  Counsel  rose  another 
voice. 

"  Ower  late !  Ower  late,  indeed !"  It  was  a  swart, 
fierce-eyed,  gypsy-looking  youth  who  spoke.  "  We  have 
borne  over-long  with  oppression.  Never  yet  was  the  law 
0'  tyranny  and  wrong  enforced  in  Gallowa'.  Surely  we 
are  the  sons  of  our  fathers  this  day.  Shall  a  thousand  men 
stand  craven  before  them  that  are  but  a  score  in  number? 
For  the  lairds  are  little  more  than  that,  and  from  the  sea- 
edge  crofts  and  the  hill-side  sheep-folds  men  will  rise  by 
the  hundred  to  ding  doon  their  dykes,  and  pu'  up  their 
spindling  plantations  by  the  roots." 

Then  all  the  young  men  cried  out  together,  "  Weel 
spoken,  Harry  Polwart !  So  say  we  a' !  Your  health, 
Gypsy  Harry !" 

Nevertheless  a  few  graybeards  murmured,  men  who  re- 
membered the  sore  times  that  came  upon  the  land  when 
the  troopers  of  Claverhouse  and  the  levies  of  Lag  rode 
hither  and  thither,  and  when  the  very  face  of  the  moor- 
land was  quartered  as  with  hunting  dogs.  In  especial, 
Sammle  Tamson  shook  his  head. 

"  Na,  na,  brave  lads !"  he  said,  "  let  us  avoid  the 
shedding  o'  bluid !  Ye  maun  mind  that  in  that  case  it 
is  no  the  lairds  wad  hae  to  fecht,  but  a'  the  poo'er  o'  the 
King !  And  if  it  comes  to  open  war  the  sodjers  will  ride 
us  doon  like  meadow-liay,  even  as  they  did  at  Bothwell 
Brig  and  the  Rig  o'  Pentland.  Them  that  flee  to  the  sword 
shair  perish  by  the  sword — " 

"  Better  to  perish  by  the  sword  than  perish  of  cold  and 
starvation  on  the  hill-side !"  cried  Harry  Polwart,  ve- 
hemently. "  If  Hector  Faa  has  lived  for  forty  years  an 
outlaw  against  the  King,  think  ye  that  the  lairds  can  put 
down  a  thousand  men  that  are  men  ?" 

"  And  that  is  the  very  reason  that  Hector  Faa  has  been 
spared,"  said  a  gray-bearded  man,  to  whom  the  others  paid 
great  respect.     "  Hector  is  but  one,  and  the  powers  lliat 

50 


THE     LEVELLEES     IN     COUNCIL 

be  are  busy.  So  long  as  he  does  no  more  than  slip  an  orra 
sheep  aff  the  hill  betimes,  or  drives  awa'  an  Ayrshireman's 
coo  in  the  gloamin',  sma'  notice  is  ta'en  o'  him.  But  had 
he  a  thoosand  men  at  his  back — a'  rank  plunderers  like 
himsel' — the  government  wad  send  a  thoosand  troopers, 
and  ten  to  the  back  o'  that — ay,  mair  and  mair,  till  Hector 
Faa  wad  swing  by  the  neck  for  the  robber  and  catheran 
that  he  is !  We  are  decent  men,  and  want  neither  com- 
parison nor  likening  to  that  robber !" 

"Talk,  talk,  talk!"  retorted  Harry  Polwart,  fiercely; 
"  that  is  all  ye  do  or  have  done  this  twelvemonth  past ! 
Prating  is  gone  clean  out  of  date.  Those  that  are  ready 
to  do,  let  them  put  points  to  their  pikes  and  look  to  their 
priming !  For  I  have  a  leader  ready,  and  I  will  name  a 
place  of  meeting!  Who  will  follow  us?  This  very  night 
we  will  begin  our  work,  and  if  by  the  morrow's  morn  there 
remains  a  stone  upon  a  stone  in  all  the  enclosure  dykes 
of  Rerrick,  may  I,  Harry  Polwart,  be  hanged  for  a  thief 
in  front  o'  the  Castle  o'  Kirkcudbright !" 

"  And  a  right  lively  chance  of  that  same  you  will  have, 
Master  Harry,  if  ye  do  as  ye  say,"  answered  the  gray- 
haired  man  who  had  spoken  before.  "  But  this  leader  of 
yours — who  is  he?  Surely  he  has  a  name  that  can  be 
named  in  the  council  of  the  Levellers  o'  Gallowa' — that  is, 
if  he  be  indeed  a  leal  man  and  no  traitor !" 

''•'  He  is  no  traitor — I  will  risk  my  head  upon  it,  as, 
indeed,  his  deeds  shall  this  night  prove  !  There  are  reasons 
why  I  cannot  speak  his  name.  But  this  I  will  say.  He 
who  will  lead  us  to  fame  this  night  is  not,  indeed,  of  our 
degree,  but  his  heart  is  with  us  in  the  struggle.  Who  -will 
join  ?    Up  with  your  right  hands  !" 

At  least  half  of  those  present  held  up  their  hands, 
including  all  the  younger  men. 

"  At  the  cross-roads  of  Eascarrel,  then !"  cried  the 
gypsy ;  "  the  time,  ten  of  the  night !  And  our  watchword, 
'  A  free  land  and  a  free  folk  !' " 

51 


IX 

ENTER    SILVER    SAND 

MEANWHILE  in  my  father's  now  house  of  Orraland 
there  was  much  gathering  of  forces  and  counting  of 
war-gear.  First  in  the  intended  fray  there  was,  of  course, 
my  uncle  Fighting  Will,  otherwise  William  Maxwell,  of 
Craigdarroch.  Never  yet  did  any  trouble  come  to  a 
head  but  Will  INIaxwell  sooner  or  later  found  his  way  to 
the  post  of  danger.  And  generally  sooner  than  later.  In- 
deed, his  bull-neck  and  the  tussock  of  gray  bristles  which 
covered  his  head  generally  bore  up  from  nowhere  in  par- 
ticular, with  the  first  mutterings  of  strife,  as  surely  as  gulls 
drive  up  on  the  front  of  a  Solway  storm  to  whiten  the  new- 
ploughed  lands. 

With  him  came  half  a  dozen  Maxwells,  mostly  nephews 
and  cousins,  all  young  storm-petrels,  scenting  any  bold 
adventure,  and  uncommonly  active  meantime  with  their 
knives  and  forks.  For  my  father  liked  the  repute  of  keep- 
ing a  generous  table,  though  he  never  permitted  any  kind 
of  excess,  either  in  himself  or  in  his  guests. 

"  I  canna  think  what  has  gotten  into  the  country-side 
lads,"  cried  Will  from  one  end  of  the  hall  to  the  other 
(Will  generally  had  to  get  half  a  furlong  away  in  order  to 
get  the  speaking  distance  which  suited  his  voice,  his  utter- 
ance, when  excited,  being  so  volcanic  that  it  seemed  as  if 
the  first  gust  would  blow  his  interlocutor  off  his  feet). 
"  I  have  been  down  at  the  village  recruiting,  and  feint  a 
pretty  lad  can  I  find  that  will  button  on  his  jack  and  follow 

52 


ENTER     SILVEE     SAND 

after  to  rescue  our  Maxwell.  Such  faint  hearts  as  they 
are  become  all  of  a  sudden !  They  are  away  on  one  pre- 
text or  another — one  hath  taken  a  turn  at  sea,  and  is  gone 
to  Maryport — another  is  visiting  his  friends  in  the  country 
— '  for  his  health/  says  his  mother,  when  I  know  to  my 
cost  that  only  last  Monda}'  as  ever  was  he  reached  me  at 
single-stick  with  as  sound  a  clout  on  the  head  as  ever  I  gat 
in  my  life !" 

"  That  is  not  like  our  Orraland  lads,"  said  my  father ; 
"  they  are  not  usually  backward  when  there  is  the  chance 
of  hard  knocks — and"  (here  he  sighed  a  little)  "I  did 
think  they  were  better  affected  to  me  and  my  son.  But 
these  are  troublous  times,  and  while  they  last  every  man 
must  fend  for  himself." 

"  They  are  all  rogues,"  cried  Will,  "  and,  I  warrant,  are 
up  to  their  necks  in  this  Leveller  business,  with  intent  to 
burn  what  they  cannot  build  and  uproot  what  they  cannot 
plant.  A  little  judicious  hanging  would  benefit  some  of 
them  greatly.  That  long-shanked  rascal  of  yours  over  on 
the  island  is  as  great  a  rogue  as  any." 

"  Ay,"  cried  our  cousin  Andrew  Agnew  from  the  Shire- 
side,  as  blithe  and  swank  a  young  blade  as  ever  lifted  his 
leg  across  saddle-leather,  "  we  have  them  in  our  parts,  too ; 
but  my  father  is,  as  ye  know.  King's  Justicer,  and  I  hardly 
think  they  will  meddle  with  him.  But  I  am  sorry  you 
should  be  troubled  with  the  vermin  hereaway.  Laird 
Eathan." 

For  my  father  was  still  known  by  the  name  of  his  ancient 
possession,  though  his  recently  acquired  lands  were  both 
larger  and  richer. 

"  Well,"  said  Patrick  Heron,  "  my  wife  May  is  some- 
where in  the  saddle  twixt  here  and  Kirkcudbright,  and  if 
she  bring  not  word — ay,  and  also  recruits  a-plenty — 
then  indeed  I  will  say  that  there  is  neither  virtue  nor  spirit 
in  the  young  men  any  more — " 

"  Better  send  me  to  wile  them  in,  father,"  cried  a  bright 

53 


THE    DARK    0'     THE     MOON 

and  ilower-faced  girl,  entering  the  long  hall  of  Orraland 
from  a  door  at  the  side,  and  making  the  circle  of  men  turn 
about  with  her  voice,  which  was  indeed  always  sweet- 
sounding  and  memoralde.  My  sister  Grisel  she  was,  and 
of  her  anon.  "  Her  mother  over  again,  the  minx  !"  was  my 
father's  constant  verdict  about  Grisel.  And  that  of  others 
will  appear  in  the  course  of  the  narrative. 

"Better  let  me  be  your  recruiting  sergeant,  father, 
and  I  will  cost  you  never  a  shilling  for  binding  arles. 
Faith,  an  I  could  not  enlist  a  triple  regiment,  never  call 
me  Grisel  Heron  again.  I  should  be  unworthy  of  ray 
name !" 

"  Ay,  and  what  bounty  would  ye  offer  as  so  powerful  an 
inducement.  Mistress  Flibberty-gibbet  ?"  said  my  father. 
For  of  course  she  was  his  favorite,  as  I  was  equally  my 
mother's. 

At  this  our  Grisel  pouted,  and  nodded  her  head  first  at 
one  of  the  company  and  then  at  another.  For  she  was, 
as  I  say,  ever  a  tricksome  minx. 

"  Would  you  dare  to  Mist,  Andrew  Agnew,  and  leave  the 
arles  to  me?"  she  challenged  him. 

"  Ay,  blithely  that  would  I !"  cried  the  bold  son  of  the 
hereditary  Justicer. 

"  And  you,  Colin  lad  ?"  She  turned  to  Colin  Gilmour  of 
Nine  Mile  Burn. 

"  Indeed  T  am  with  you  now,  and  always,  pretty  Mistress 
Griselda,"  added  that  somewhat  more  formal  youth,  getting 
up  and  bowing  to  her. 

"  And  you,  my  cousin  Grant?" 

"That  I  wull,  Girzy,  though  Guid  kens  ye  are  a  besom 
and  wull  no  gie  a  man  a  kiss — no,  tliough  ye  promise  him 
twenty  times !"  cried  a  youthful  muirland  kinsman  from 
the  wilds  of  Urr.  His  frank  utterance  of  his  experiences 
caused  a  laugh — which,  however,  in  nowise  disconcerted 
the  young  lady. 

"Give  you  a  kiss?     I  wonder  to  hear  ye.  Grant,"  she 

54 


EXTER     SILVER     SAND 

said,  with  a  show  of  indignation.  "  And  you  scarce  run- 
ning by  yourself  yet."  Then  she  explained  to  the  com- 
pany. "  At  home  they  feed  him  out  of  a  coffee-pot,  ye  ken, 
with  a  bag  over  the  spout,  like  a  pet  lamb !" 

She  put  her  head  to  the  side,  consideringly. 

"  Does  he  not  look  a  pet — no  long  f rae  his  mammy  ?" 
she  cried,  clasping  her  hands  in  affected  admiration.  And 
the  like  o'  him  to  be  speaking  about  kissing — fie,  for  shame, 
Grant!  Wha  has  been  learnin'  ye  sic  words?  Shame  on 
ye,  bairn !  Gin  vour  mither  hears  ye,  she  will  hae  ye  weel 
skelpit !" 

"  Hush,  Grisel,"  interrupted  her  father,  "  this  is  serious 
enough,  though  I  do  not  believe  they  will  do  Maxwell  any 
bodily  harm.  His  captors  will  think  more  of  ransom  than 
of  revenge,  being  that  sort  of  rascal.  And  as  for  you. 
Mistress  Minx,  it  is  easy  to  engage  already  enlisted  men. 
But  you  are  welcome  to  try  your  hand  on  the  Orraland 
Gallants,  who,  says  brother  Will  here,  cannot  be  made  to 
budge  for  any  manly  arguments."' 

"Faith,  an  I  were,"  she  said,  confidently;  "  methinks 
I  could  put  my  colors  on  every  mother's  son — from  Tam 
Kinstry,  the  meal-miller's  son,  to  Camsteerie  Cormack, 
that  they  engage  for  craw-bogle  on  odd  days  when  the 
craws  get  overly  well  acquaint  wi'  the  ordinary  ones !" 

But  into  the  great  hall  of  the  house  of  Orraland  there 
came  one  who  in  a  moment  changed  the  current  of  all 
men's  thoughts,  even  staying  the  daffing  of  that  our 
spirited  maid,  Grisel,  and,  as  it  were,  by  his  mere  coun- 
tenance lifting  a  weight  off  the  general  heart. 

"  Silver  Sand  !"  cried  my  father,  hastening  forward  with 
both  hands  outstretched.  "  Oh,  I  am  glad — so  glad  !"  cried 
Grisel,  throwing  herself  without  ceremony  on  the  new- 
comer's neck  and  kissing  him  heartily. 

"  Is  that  what  you  mean  by  enlisting  a  recruit  ?"  said 
young  Agnew,  slyly;  "  then  my  turn  next,  if  you  please." 

And  yet,  unless  you  had  known  his  name  and  story, 

55 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

there  was  nothing  in  the  man's  appearance  to  warrant  a 
reception  so  distinguished  in  the  house  of  Orraland.  But 
though  my  father  was  a  man  of  counsel,  and  Will  Maxwell 
a  deacon  with  the  sword-blade  and  pistol-butt,  yet  never- 
theless with  the  advent  of  Silver  Sand  it  was  felt  by  every 
man  that  the  only  natural  counsellor  had  appeared  for  any 
enterprise  of  danger  and  uncertain  issue. 

A  gray,  thin-faced  man,  with  a  mouth  about  which 
played  a  lurking  smile,  his  countenance  lined  and  weather- 
beaten,  curious  arms  hung  very  low  by  his  sides,  his  ap- 
pearance at  a  distance  not  striking,  but  when  seen  nearer 
of  an  indescribable  dignity  of  composure — a  man  who  (as 
one  knew  instinctively)  had  often  looked  on  death  and 
danger  with  the  same  quietly  humorous  regard.  That  was 
Silver  Sand,  the  good  angel  of  the  house  of  Eathan,  and 
the  friend  of  all  within  its  bounds. 

Yet  in  spite  of  his  ordinarily  iron  quiet,  he  seemed  af- 
fected by  the  warmth  of  his  welcome. 

"What's  this  — what's  this  that  I  hear?"  he  said. 
"  Patrick,  I  am  heart-sorry.  Lassie,  be  not  feared.  We 
will  find  your  brother  of  a  surety !" 

••  But,  Silver  Sand,  how  came  you  to  know  of  the  capt- 
ure of  my  son  ]\Taxwell  ?"  my  father  inquired. 

Silver  Sand  glanced  quickly  up  at  him. 

"Ye  ken  my  ways  of  old,"  he  said;  "though  simple 
enough,  yet  they  are  not  common  folks'  ways  of  obtaining 
knowledge.  But  if  I  told  them,  they  would  be  of  little 
more  use  to  me — or  to  my  friends,  either.  But  in  this  case 
the  explanation  is  a  simple  one.  I  will  bring  in  one  who 
will  tell  you  more  and  Iietter  all  that  I  know." 

And  with  these  words  he  opened  the  hall  door,  and  who 
should  come  in,  limping,  with  both  hands  on  a  stick,  his 
lips  compressed  with  pain,  a  bloody  bandage  about  his 
head — who  but  young  Jasper  Jamicson,  that  had  been  my 
companion  when  we  rode  so  blithely  away  from  Eathan 
in  the  spring  morning. 

56 


ENTEll     SILVEE     SAND 

"  This  lad  has  the  master  -  key,"  said  Silver  Sand ; 
"  after  we  have  heard  his  tale  we  can  concert  our  plans." 

"What  brocht  ye  here  like  this,  Jasper?"  "  Whatna 
lass  were  ye  seekin'  when  ye  gat  that  clour  frae  her 
faither's  shillelah  ?"  "  What  hae  ye  dune  wi'  Maxwell  ?" 
"Where  have  you  left  my  brother,  Jasper  Jamie?" 

These  were  some  of  the  cries  that  greeted  the  young 
man,  as  he  stood  blinking  and  dazed  in  the  warm  dusk  of 
the  chamber. 

But  the  master  of  the  house  held  up  his  hand. 

"  Sit  ye  down,  Jasper,"  he  said,  kindly ;  "  take  a  cup 
of  wine  before  you  tell  your  story.  I  see  it  in  your  eyes 
that  my  son  is  not  dead." 

So  kind  and  courteous  was  my  father  on  all  occasions, 
even  when  his  heart  was  troubled  and  sore  within  him. 


X 

A    CAPTAIN    OF   REBELS 

JASPER  JAMIE  told  his  tale  in  the  hall  of  the  house 
of  Orraland,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  telling  my 
mother  came  in,  still  young  and  comely,  and  the  most 
spirited  woman  in  the  Stewartry. 

"  With  Hector  Faa  I"  cried  she,  when  she  heard  all,  and 
then  at  a  certain  thought  of  the  things  and  times  that 
were  bygone,  she  suddenly  paled.  But,  recovering  herself, 
she  added,  "  Yet  I  do  not  think  that  he  will  dare  to  shed 
my  laddie's  l)lood — no,  not  even  Hector  Faa  dare  do  that ! 
He  has  a  daughter,  they  say?" 

"  One  that  passes  for  such,  at  any  rate,"  said  Silver 
Sand,  gravely ;  "  and  a  fine  lass,  whatever  be  her  kin." 

"  Then  I  am  none  feared  for  my  l)oy,"  said  she  that 
had  been  called  in  her  youth  May  Mischief,  tossing  her 
head  with  something  of  her  ancient  manner  (Grisel  hath 
it  also)  ;  "  there  lives  no  woman  born  of  woman  that  has 
the  heart  to  stand  l)y  and  see  Maxwell  Heron  mis- 
handled !" 

And  by  this  she  meant,  as  I  presume,  that  I  had  been 
delicate  of  body  from  my  birth,  and  hard  to  rear  through 
the  bitter  Sol  way  winters  and  cold  easterly  winds  that 
come  to  us  across  the  snows  of  Clieviot  and  the  waves  of. 
the  North  Sea.  I  know  of  no  other  reason  why  my  mother 
should  so  have  spoken,  for  at  that  time  my  experience  of 
women  in  the  way  of  making  love  to  them  had  been  just 
none  at  all, 

58 


A     CAPTAIN     OF     REBELS 

Now,  when  they  were  listening  open-mouthed  in  the 
hall  of  Orraland  to  the  tale  of  Jasper  Jamie,  all  about 
our  bird  wager  and  the  inn  of  Tarkirra,  my  sister  Grisel 
slipped  out,  not,  of  course,  wholly  unobserved.  For  at 
her  departure  the  young  men,  as  it  were,  disengaged  them- 
selves, sat  less  erect,  and  ceased  from  emulous  glances 
across  to  the  place  where  she  stood.  Yet  none  ventured 
to  follow,  well  knowing  that  such  a  movement  would  have 
called  out  the  whole  flock. 

But  Grisel,  as  soon  as  she  was  well  assured  of  my  safety, 
flew  to  a  point  of  rock  which  overlooked  the  bay.  The 
tide  was  now  full,  and  Isle  Rathan,  our  ancient  princi- 
pality, lay  (as  I  can  see  it  lie  even  as  I  write)  anchored 
among  a  broad,  surprising  glitter  of  wavelets,  silver- 
sheened  and  changeful  in  color  as  a  dove's  breast. 

Having  arrived  at  this  point,  which  lies  not  far  from 
the  place  that  is  called  Balcairy,  Grisel  waved  a  white 
kerchief  thrice  to  the  left  and  as  often  to  the  right,  in 
that  order,  looking  all  the  while  over  to  the  island  in  the 
shining  fairway,  as  if  for  an  answering  signal.  Four 
times  she  did  this  in  vain.  The  old  gray  tower  of  Rathan 
stood  up  still  and  lonely  in  the  sunshine,  a  thin  pew  of 
peat  reek  from  the  chimney  of  the  kitchen-place  alone 
giving  token  of  habitation.  The  rocks  near  the  landing- 
place  seemed  fairly  to  blink  with  the  heat,  but  it  was  only 
the  wet  sands  sending  up  a  wavering  haze  about  the  isle. 

Suddenly  in  the  great  bhie  day  an  answering  fleck  of 
white,  no  larger  than  a  sea-bird's  wing,  was  waved  franti- 
cally to  the  right,  and  again  as  often  to  the  left. 

A  figure  ran  down  the  beach,  pushed  off  a  skiff,  and 
rowed  swiftly  towards  Grisel.  That  young  maid,  apparently 
satisfied  with  the  success  of  her  signal,  sat  down  on  the 
cliff-edge  upon  a  spot  at  once  well  secured  from  observa- 
tion, and  yet  from  which  a  view  of  the  isle  could  be  had 
down  a  kind  of  gully  as  through  a  telescope.  She  sat 
nursing  one  knee  between  her  clasped  hands,  and  humming 

59 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     xMOON 

an  air  under  her  breath.  She  kept  smiling  also  all  the 
while,  like  one  who  waits  for  a  love-trysting.  (Now  Grisel 
is  my  sister,  and  perhaps  it  is  wrong  to  tell  all  her  doings 
and  misdoings ;  but,  all  these  things  are  long  past,  and 
become  a  matter  for  smiling  gossip  and  forenight  reminis- 
cence. Besides  which,  I  have  her  permission — laughingly 
given,  it  is  true,  and  with  the  request  that  I  should  keep  the 
book  from  the  hands  of  her  daughter  Bell.  But  from  what 
I  hear,  anything  I  may  have  to  write  will  neither  harm  nor 
yet  inform  that  young  woman.) 

Weil,  as  I  say,  there  sat  Grisel  on  her  rock  smiling  at 
the  little  black  dot,  with  the  line  of  sparkles  on  either 
hand,  which  was  the  flashing  of  the  oars  as  the  boat  came 
nearer  across  the  water. 

No  sooner  had  the  bow  grated  on  the  shingle  than  Grisel 
fairly  broke  and  ran  from  her  covert.  A  tall  young  man, 
dressed  in  sailor  clothes,  sprang  out  lightly,  and  Grisel 
(sad  I  am  to  write  it  down!),  forsaking  all  maidenly 
modesty,  rushed  laughingly  down  to  him,  and  caught  him 
in  her  arms  with  impulsive  abandonment.  The  stranger 
responded  as  fervently,  but  with  a  certain  careless  equality 
of  affection  strange  in  a  youth  thus  highly  favored  by  a 
maid  so  courted  and  coveted  as  the  eldest  (and  only) 
(laughter  of  Patrick  Heron  of  Isle  Tvathan,  and  May  his 
wife. 

"  Come — come  quick — to  our  place !  I  have  so  much 
to  tell  you,  dearest  heart !"  said  Grisel,  with  her  arms 
about  the  young  man's  waist. 

'•'  Help  me  with  my  boat,  then  !"  he  replied,  still  tugging 
the  skiff  higher  up  the  shingle.  Presently  they  came  up 
the  beach,  walking  together  with  linked  and  woven  arms, 
the  tall  youth  leaning  over  till  his  cheek  was  resting  on 
Grisel's  fair  hair. 

They  were  clearly  very  fond  of  each  other,  yet  the 
equality  of  regard  between  them  was  clearer  than  ever. 
Indeed,  if  anything,  the  balance  of  demonstrative  admira- 

60 


A     CAPTAIN     OF     REBELS 

tion  was  on  Grisel  Heron's  side — which  was  not  as  it 
should  have  been.  When  they  were  a  hundred  yards  from 
the  beach,  and  the  spurs  of  rock  had  shut  them  off  from 
observation,  Grisel  thrust  her  companion  off  at  arm's  length 
from  her. 

"  Oh,  you  look  like  a  painted  picture — I  wish  I  could 
wear  them !    But  I  suppose  they  would  be  too  large — " 

"  Oh,  far  too  large — beside,  two  of  us  would  spoil  the 
game !" 

"  Oh,  ]\Iarion,  dear — 1  mean  Dick — dear  Dick,  they 
have  found  my  brother  !" 

"  What ! — has  he  come  home  ?" 

The  youth  in  the  blue  suit  with  silver  buttons  and  the 
broad  bonnet  on  his  head  turned  about  quickly. 

"  Nay,  not  home,"  said  Grisel ;  "  but  they  know  where 
he  is — he  is  held  for  ransom  by  Hector  Faa !" 

"You  take  the  matter  pretty  coolly.  Mistress  Grisel," 
said  the  youth,  who  was,  of  course,  no  other  than  Marion 
of  Isle  Eathan,  the  adventurous  daughter  of  Sammle; 
"  had  I  a  brother  like  yours,  methinks  I  should  be  more 
concerned.  To  say  that  he  is  safe  in  Hector  Faa's  cave  is 
like  the  old  woman  of  Dumfries,  who,  being  asked  of  her 
son's  welfare,  answered,  '  Oh,  oor  Jock's  weel.  He  was 
hangit  for  sheep  stealin'  at  Dumfries  on  Wednesday  week. 
But  the  Lord  be  thankit,  Jock's  gane  to  a  better  place  !'  " 

"  Marion — Dick,  I  mean,  I  never  can  remember — it  will 
be  splendid ;  you  are  captain,  so  we  will  get  the  band  to 
deliver  him — " 

"  The  band  has  other  purposes  than  to  rescue  a  laird'.s 
son  held  to  ransom,"  said  the  apparent  Dick  of  the  Isle. 
"  More  like  that  they  should  catch  him  and  hold  him  to 
ransom  themselves  I" 

"  That  would  be  excellent,  too.  Mar — Dick,  I  mean ; 
we  could  keep  Maxwell  in  the  Great  Cave  on  Rathan,  and 
hold  him  to  ransom  till  he  married  you  !" 

"  We  have  talked  quite  enough  nonsense,  Grisel,"  said 

61 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

her  compauion,  sharply ;  "  you  remember  the  tryst  to-night 
by  the  cross-roads  of  Kasearrel.  If  you  are  true  to  your 
oath  you  will  be  there,  and  you  know  the  costume !" 

Grisel  looked  a  little  mournful.  There  is  no  girl  of  any 
pretension  to  beauty  who  has  not  at  one  time  or  another 
had  a  certain  curious  ambition  to  know  how  she  would 
look  in  boy's  attire.  And  the  costume  which  Marion  of 
the  Isle  woT-e  was  certainly  most  l)ecoming. 

"  No,  that  is  for  the  captain  alone — the  post  of  danger !" 

"  I  don't  care  about  the  danger.  You  could  have  that, 
and  welcome,  but  the  knee-breeks  are  certainly  monstrous 
fine !" 

"  Grisel,  I  bid  you  remember  your  oath — this  is  a  hang- 
ing matter  if  we  are  caught,  and  what  is  very  well  for 
Sammle  Tamson's  daughter  to  risk  will  not  do  at  all  for 
Mistress  Grisel  Heron  of  Orraland  and  Isle  Rathan." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  just  a  common  person,  so  that  I 
could  wear  the  things  you  have !" 

"  Ah,"  laughed  the  youth ;  "  but  then,  you  see,  I  wear 
them  because  a  great  number  of  people  think  that  I  am 
not  at  all  a  common  person  !" 

"  What  are  you,  then  ?"  said  Grisel,  who,  being  denied 
and  disappointed,  was  inclined  to  be  a  little  bitter. 

"  I  am  the  new  leader  of  the  Levellers  of  Galloway." 
said  Marion,  with  some  pride;  "  soon  to  be  in  rebellion  for 
their  rights  and  privileges !  And  you  are  no  more  than  a 
soldier  in  the  ranks,  so  you  have  to  obey  me.  And,  mind, 
not  a  stitch  of  difference — the  roughest  material,  and  put 
on  over  your  ordinary  clothes." 

"  A  bit  of  trimming — or  at  least  strings  to  the — " 
pleaded  Grisel. 

The  other  stamped  her  foot  with  a  gesture  not  at  all 
masculine. 

*'•'  Not  a  stitch — not  a  single  bow  of  ribbon  under  penaltv 
of—" 

''  Di: ATH  ?    Oh  !" 

62 


A     CAPTAIN     OF     REBELS 

Grisel  clasped  her  hands  in  mock  terror, 
"  No ;  of  being  sent  home !" 

Mistress  Grisel  stood, a  moment,  frowning  and  making 
prettyish  pouting  mouths  (I  have  caught  her  practising 
them  before  the  glass.  A  vain  piece  was  our  Grisel,  all 
the  days  of  her ! )  I  think  she  meditated  paying  off  some 
of  the  disappointment  about  the  captain's  dress  upon  her 
dearest  friend. 

"  And  so  you  will  do  nothing  about  rescuing  my  brother 
from  Hector  Faa  ?"  she  said. 

"  Gladly :  I  will  do  what  I  can  to  release  him ;  but  not 
with  the  band  of  the  Levellers.  I  have  sworn  an  oath  to 
think  of  nothing  and  care  for  nothing  till  these  poor  cot- 
tiers and  crofters  are  restored  to  their  ancient  privileges !" 

"  I  thought  you  liked  Maxwell  ?"  Grisel  suggested,  plain- 
tively. (I  hear  her,  the  minx,  and  not  an  inch  of  earnest 
intent  in  her,  l)ut  only  guile  and  a  pretty  maliciousness.) 

"  I  like  him  well  enough,"  answered  the  maiden  of  the 
island  ;  "  but  what  is  it  to  save  one  man  and  betray  a  cause  ? 
Besides  which,  I  do  not  believe  that  the  Levellers  would 
follow  me  into  the  wild  hills  where  Hector  Faa  has  his 
stronghold." 

"  No,  the  Levellers  might  not ;  but  I  know  the  young 
fellows  would  follow  you  to  the  gallows'  foot!" 

"  I  sometimes  think,"  said  Marion,  a  little  pensively, 
"  that  that  is  indeed  whither  I  am  leading  them !" 

"  Come,"  cried  Grisel,  "  that,  at  least,  is  not  spoken  like 
Captain  Dick  of  the  Isle.  But  you  need  not  spend  over- 
much pity  on  Maxwell.  Hector  Faa's  daughter  Joyce  is 
beautiful,  they  say,  and — well — she  has  never  seen  a  man 
like  our  Maxwell,  I'll  wager !" 

"  She  has  seen  men  who  are  men,"  said  Marion,  a  little 
sharply.  "  I  have  lived  among  these  outlaw  folk  and 
know !" 

(A  saying  which  bore  some  deal  heavily  upon  me.) 
63 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     :\IOON 

Grisel  let  the  information  sink  in,  going  on  to  enlarge 
upon  the  reputed  beauty  of  Joyce  Faa,  and  the  wild  and 
savage  scenery  with  which  the  outlaw's  haunts  was  sur- 
rounded. 1, 

"  I  warrant,"  she  said,  "  ]\lax  is  by  this  time  fathoms 
deep  in  love,  and  hath  made  a  score  of  drafts  of  Joyce 
Faa's  head  with  a  burnt  stick  on  a  planed  board,  if  he  can 
get  no  other  material.     For  that  is  our  Maxwell  to  the  life." 

Tn  this  again,  as  was  her  wont,  most  shamefully  belying 
me. 

And  all  the  time  my  sister  kept  watching  Marion  from 
beneath  her  eyelashes,  as  she  sat  gazing  to  the  north  and 
strumming  on  her  knee  with  her  fingers  in  a  kind  of 
dreamy  abstraction. 

At  last  the  young  Captain  of  the  Levellers  spoke. 

"  I  would  not  like  your  brother  to  be  in  any  real  danger. 
T  will  speak  with  Silver  Sand.  To-night,  after  our  work 
is  done,  I  will  tell  you  what  he  says." 

Slie  paused  and  sighed. 

"  Now  must  I  hasten  back  to  Isle  Rathan,  or  Davie 
Veitch  will  be  tired  of  kee])ing  the  company  of  my  petti- 
coats so  long  in  the  Cave." 

"  Wliy  does  he  wait  there — for  his  Sunday  clothes?" 
asked  Crisel,  looking  at  the  well-ordered  blue  suit  which 
Marion  wore. 

"  No ;  but  that  I  may  have  liberty  to  come  and  go  freely. 
When  I  am  spied  from  the  cliffs  men  say,  '  Tlicre,  I  de- 
clare to  peace,  is  that  Davie  Veitch  rowing  over  to  see  his 
lass  again.  None  but  Sammle  Tamson  would  put  up  with 
such  a  runnagate !" 

"  So,  to  save  yonr  own  character,  3'ou  make  ducks  and 
drakes  of  poor  Davie's?" 

"'  Oh,"  said  Marion,  lightly,  "  it  is  so  long  since  poor 
Davie  had  any  character  to  speak  of,  that  a  bit  of  my  ill- 
doing  will  ratlicr  cover  his  nakedness  than  otherwise!" 

Then  she  mused  a  little,  and,  suddenly  pushing  off,  set 

64 


A     CAPTAIN     OF     REBELS 

to  the  oars  without  the  masculine  preliminary  of  spitting 
on  her  hands.    She  was  quite  half  over  before  she  rested. 

Then  she  leaned  a  moment  on  her  oars,  letting  the  water 
drip  from  the  blades.  She  watched  the  distant  blue  moun- 
tains very  faint  on  the  horizon.  There  was  the  Merrick, 
yonder  more  tenderly  blue,  soft-bosomed  Cafirnsmuir,  and 
though  she  could  not  see  it  for  the  lowering  mass  of  the 
Black  Craig  of  Dee,  somewhere  to  the  right  lay  the  Dun- 
geon of  Buchan,  of  which  she  was  thinking. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  that  Joyce  Faa — just  once !  I  do 
not  believe  she  is  so  very  beautiful !"  said  the  Captain  of 
the  Levellers,  while  the  little  ripples  of  the  tide  ran  away 
from  under  the  boat's  counter,  laughing  derisively. 


XI 

PATHS    PERILOUS 

MEANWHILE  I  remained  with  Joyce  Faa  in  the  Shiel 
of  the  Dungeon,  and  regarded  none  of  these  things. 
It  was  a  lot  in  itself  not  unenviable.  The  fine  clear  moun- 
tain air,  the  wild  birds  swinging  all  about  upon  their  varied 
necessities,  the  romantic  Shiel  itself,  all  the  eagles' -nest 
business  of  watching  this  one's  flocks  and  that  one's  byre — 
touched  the  side  of  my  nature  which  rejoices  in  being  dif- 
ferent from  ordinary  work-a-day  folk  about  me. 

I  knew  vaguely  that  my  father  had  once  on  a  time  been 
seized  by  such-like  longings,  as  for  example,  when  he  look- 
ed out  of  Eathan  Tower  and  saw  Silver  Sand's  camp-fire 
down  in  the  birken  glade  of  Rathan  Isle.  But,  then, 
Patrick  Heron  was  early  left  an  orphan  and  could  do  as 
he  chose,  whereas  I,  with  the  best  mother  in  the  world,  had 
been  so  watched  and  checked,  so  cossetted  and  debarred, 
that,  being  none  of  the  wild  birkies  who  make  it  their 
business  to  dare  everything,  I  had  chiefly  grown  as  I  was 
trained,  and  filled  very  much  the  room  in  the  world  that 
my  good  and  dear  mother  intended  I  should. 

But  in  this  excursus,  whatever  might  be  the  issue,  I  was 
free  from  blame — or,  at  least,  I  held  myself  so.  For  it 
was  not  my  fault  that  I  was  held  for  ransom  by  Hector 
Faa,  or  that  his  daughter  had  a  head  like  the  cutting  on 
an  ancient  Greek  gem  and  the  coloring  of  a  ripening 
pomegranate,  eyes  purple-dark,  lips  scarlet,  and,  what  was 
more  to  me  than  all,  a  swift  wilful  kindness  in  her  glance, 

66 


PATHS     PERILOUS 

a  charm  even  in  a  certain  tumultuous  way  she  had  of  heap- 
ing her  hair  together  swiftly  when  the  hill-winds  from  the 
Dungeon  depths  fretted  it. 

Yet  I  was  not  in  love — or,  at  least,  I  did  not  know  it. 
And  even  now,  when  I  come  to  look  back  on  all  calmly, 
and  everything  that  came  out  of  it,  I  do  not  think  that  I 
was  in  love. 

I  was  so  easy  to  be  understood  myself,  specially  to  a 
woman,  with  my  girlishness  of  feature  and  the  ways  of  a 
delicate  boy,  that  ordinary  women  did  not  greatly  move 
me.  But  rather  I  loved  the  society  of  those  of  them  who 
were  apart  from  the  ruck — of  my  mother,  for  instance,  she 
that  had  been  called  May  Mischief  (who  would  have 
thought  now,  to  see  how  careful  she  was  that  I  should 
keep  out  of  that  same?),  of  sonsy  Eppie  Tamson  upon  the 
Island,  and — yes,  though  her  age  and  beauty  might  cause 
others  to  smile,  of  Marion  also,  that  young  palm-tree  by 
the  rivers  of  waters,  as  a  poetic  and  deeply  smitten  Cam- 
eronian  had  once  called  her. 

But  with  none  of  them  all,  save  with  my  mother,  was 
I  in  love,  a  thing  which,  when  I  recalled  what  other  young 
fellows  of  my  age  and  station  had  confided  to  me  con- 
cerning my  own  sister  Grisel  and  a  score  of  others, 
proved  conclusively  to  myself  that  there  was  a  want  some- 
where about  me — a  something  that  kept  me  from  being 
or  at  last  behaving  quite  as  other  men. 

All  the  same,  it  was  undeniably  pleasant  in  the  Shiel 
of  the  Dungeon.  If  Joyce  Faa  and  I  were  not  lovers, 
there  were  few  boundaries  to  our  friendship  for  each 
other.  Having  once  accepted  my  parole,  she  and  I 
wandered  freely  upon  the  tops  of  the  wild  mountains  of 
slate  and  granite.  Joyce  it  was  who  showed  me  how  to 
climb  the  face  of  the  great  Craiglee  precipice  by  paths 
that  seemed  no  more  deeply  cut  on  the  granite  than  if 
they  had  been  scored  with  a  slate-pencil. 

Often  we  went  hand  in  hand.     For  in  necessary  places 

67 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

she  would  give  me  hers,  with  none  of  the  silly  young 
raaidish  coquetry  I  had  seen  my  sister  and  other  pretty 
girls  practise — ay,  even  upon  each  other,  as  it  were,  to 
keep  their  hands  in. 

But  though  I  sometimes  saw  the  corner  of  Joyce's  mouth 
draw  meditatively  down,  and  surprised  a  deep  and  pas- 
sionate glance  in  her  eyes,  I  knew  Avell  that  these  were 
by  no  means  love  tokens.  Nor  did  I  presume  at  all  upon 
the  state  of  her  heart  with  regard  to  myself.  I  had  the 
instinct  to  let  well  alone,  and  I  was  not  going  to  break 
off  the  first  poet's  song  of  my  life  before  the  primal 
stanza  had  been  sung. 

I  knew  that  Joyce  Faa  pitied  me  because  I  had  been 
mishandled,  and  that  by  her  own  kinsfolk.  Certainly,  a 
marvellous  kindliness  looked  forth  from  the  deep  places 
of  her  eyes,  the  which  were  indeed  very  deep.  And  when 
a  beauteous  maid  looks  so  upon  a  young  man — why, 
things  begin  to  happen,  even  if  their  hearts  are  as  free  of 
any  intent  of  love-making  as  hers  or  mine. 

It  came  about  after  this  fashion.  Hector  Faa  was  often 
away  from  the  Dungeon,  and  when  he  returned  it  was  his 
habit  to  bring  with  him  certain  of  his  dependants  or  spies, 
who  would  sit  about  the  fire  in  the  Shieling  for  hours, 
chattering  and  drinking,  before  going  off  to  their  couches 
in  the  lateral  caves  darkly  inhabited  by  Grice  Faa  and 
his  kind. 

It  was  not  my  custom  to  pay  much  heed  to  these.  They 
well  knew  who  I  was,  and  as  I  sat  at  my  evening  meal 
glanced  often  in  my  direction,  evidently  measuring  with 
a  grumbling  envy  the  amount  of  ransom  their  host  might 
be  able  to  extract  from  the  well-to-do  laird  of  Isle  Rathan 
and  Orraland  on  my  account.  About  this  time,  I  take  it, 
Joyce  and  I  were  completely  "  fey."  We  paid  no  heed  to 
the  days  as  they  Avent,  she  happy  with  the  first  real  com- 
panion she  had  ever  had,  since  she  left  her  mother's  land 
of  red  roofs,  white  houses,  and  broad  blue  rivers  placid 

68 


PATHS     PERILOUS 

in  the  sunshine,  while  I,  having  once  given  my  word, 
tried  no  ways  of  escape,  but,  excellently  well  content, 
played  the  play  out,  sucking  the  orange  of  the  present, 
careless  as  to  whether  in  the  future  it  would  agree  with 
me  or  no. 

I  think  we  were  both  a  little  bewildered  by  the  pleasure 
we  found,  each  in  the  other.  Yet,  as  to  this,  to  escape 
misconstruction,  I  must  hasten  to  make  myself  clear.  It 
was  not  the  ordinary  pleasures  of  wandering  lovers — not 
stolen  reluctant  glances,  woven  responsive  hands,  shy 
kisses  sought,  refused,  yielded.  Not  these;  no,  nor  any 
of  them!  ("Then  the  more  fool  you!"  my  father  would 
have  said.)  Rather,  be  it  understood,  it  was  a  relation- 
ship of  the  frankest  and  sanest  comradeship,  of  happy 
young  feet  that  loved  to  wander  along  the  self-same  paths, 
of  health  and  mutual  liking  and  kindred  vigors  of  blood, 
of  silences  that  were  never  awkward,  and  of  speech  that 
never  grew  tiresome. 

I  found  Joyce  Faa  grave  beyond  her  years,  often  con- 
tent to  be  silent  with  me  for  half  a  day,  with  nothing  all 
about  us  but  God's  high  airs,  the  wide  swooping  courses 
and  clanging  choruses  of  the  birds,  and  our  two  hearts  that 
beat  as  one  (in  no  mere  lovers'  sense)  plunging  and  loud 
as  we  mounted  upward,  anon  flagging  deliciously  as  we 
flung  ourselves  down  side  by  side  on  the  heather.  This 
was  our  comradeship  day  by  day,  and  afterwards  we  slept 
soundly  in  our  several  curtained  bunks  in  the  Shieling 
as  snugly  as  in  the  several  cabins  of  a  ship,  with  our  heads 
within  a  foot  of  each  other,  and  the  steady  snoring  of  old 
Meggat  in  our  ears  as  a  lullaby. 

Yet  I  do  firmly  avouch  and  record  it,  that  we  thought 
not  of  love — at  least,  I  did  not — till  one  night  I  had  a 
somewhat  startling  proof  that  others  did  it  for  us. 

Joyce  and  I  had  been  out  all  day  on  the  hills,  as  was 
our  wont  at  that  time.  To  say  that  we  thought  no  evil 
is  a  statement  far  within  the  bounds  of  our  innocency. 

69 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

The  sweet  and  gracious  time  was  good  enough  for  us. 
From  horizon  to  horizon  the  heather  glowed  red  as  wme 
on  the  lees.  And  over  this,  league  beyond  imperial 
lea-ue,  the  honey-bees  trilled  their  low  falsetto,  while 
the'orange-buttocked  bumble-bees  boomed  a  vigorous  bass. 

I  do  not  remember  what  we  had  said  to  each  other.  1 
cannot  report  these  day-long  talks  of  ours.  Indeed,  it  was 
not  so  much  what  we  said  as  the  pleasure  we  had  m  saying 
it—or  still  better,  that  of  being  silent  at  pleasure,  l^or 
often  our  silences  would  explode  into  bursts  of  gay  con- 
fidential talk— vet  talk  such  as  the  whole  world  might  have 
listened  to,  so  purged  was  it  of  the  ordinary  common-places 
of  love-making.  I  have  often  been  told  that  I  am  a  f oo  . 
It  may  be.  I  deny  it  not.  Another  in  my  place,  and  with 
Joyce  Faa  for  a  companion,  might  have  done  other  and 
better.     No  matter.     This  is  what  I  did. 

And,  more  than  that,  the  other  man  would  have  been 
dead  long  ago  with  a  cairn  over  him  for  all  memonal- 
that  is  if  he  were  fortunate.  Otherwise  the  old  Murder 
Hole  of  the  Eaider  folk  has  not  been  fathomed  jet,  and 
lies  but  a  mile  or  two,  as  the  crow  flies,  westward  from 
the  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon.  ,    ,     .1.        i,  ;, 

But  to  the  story  of  how  I  found  out  that  others  had 
been  busy  with  thoughts  and  intents  that  were  alien  to 
my  own  heart-or,  at  least,  had  not  broken  in  upon  me 
in  their  power. 

I  cannot  tell  what  had  come  over  us  that  niglit.  iiut 
Joyce  and  I  had  to  be  called  three  times  by  Meggat 
Faa  before  we  came  in  to  the  supper  of  sheep  s  kidneys 
and  newly  dug  potatoes  which  she  had  preparcd  for  us. 
Yet  I  can  charge  my  memory  with  nothing  that  should  have 
made  us  so  forgetful.  We  stood  by  the  same  turn  of  the 
path  where  on  the  night  of  my  coming  Joyce  had  met  her 
father  The  moon  was  rising  red  over  Curly  wee.  1  he  mist 
streamed  like  a  snow-white  torrent  down  the  mountain 
slopes.     We  could  just  see  the  silver  gleam  of  the  Mid 

70 


OH,   MAX  !'     SIIK   CKIlin,   FOR   THE    KIKST    Tl.MK    L  8INU 
THE   SHOKTEU  NAME  " 


PATHS     PERILOUS 

burn  in  its  birchen  hollow,  peeping  here  and  there  through 
the  ground  mist  as  through  a  bridal  veil.  And  the  hoarse 
roar  of  its  headlong  progress  from  loch  to  loch  came  to  us 
like  the  sough  of  the  lowest  notes  of  an  ^olian  harp — we 
were  so  far  away  and  the  night  so  calm  and  clear. 

I  think,  also,  the  perilous  place  from  which  we  viewed 
all  this  beauty  put  something  in  our  hearts  that  had  not 
been  there  before. 

We  held  each  other's  hands,  because,  as  it  appeared  to 
me,  the  place  where  we  stood  was  palpably  unsafe.  And 
so,  indeed,  in  the  event  it  proved. 

"Joyce,"  I  began,  and  then  forgot  what  I  had  set  out 
to  say,  and  fell  silent  again  in  the  kindred  silence  of  the 
hills  and  the  moon's  red  beauty.  Then  I  confessed  to  her 
that  I  had  forgotten  what  I  had  begun  to  say.  Whereat 
we  both  laughed — and  I  heard  her  heart  beat ! 

At  that  moment  something  happened. 

I  know  not  whether  she  had  ventured  a  trifle  too  near 
the  precipice.  Usually  Jo3^ce  was  as  sure-footed  as  a  goat; 
but  certain  it  is  that  a  part  of  the  insecure  rocky  founda- 
tion of  the  path  crumbled  beneath  us,  and  if  it  had  not 
been  that  I  caught  her  in  my  arms,  she  had  fallen  over  the 
verge,  a  couple  of  hundred  feet  or  so,  on  to  a  stone  slide 
that  tailed  off  steeply  towards  the  ravine. 

"  Oh,  Max !"  she  cried,  for  the  first  time  using  the 
shorter  name ;  and,  before  either  of  us  knew,  her  arm  was 
about  my  neck,  having  come  there  in  the  effort  to  sustain 
herself,  and — my  lips  were  upon  hers ! 

We  did  not  kiss — that  is,  not  in  the  ordinary  sense;  but 
these  are  the  facts,  unexpected,  overwhelming,  altogether 
revolutionary. 

The  pleasure  of  it?  Well,  I  do  not  know.  It  was  like 
fire  in  my  veins. 

We  could  not  fall  apart  instantly.  Even  the  shock  could 
not  effectu&te  that.  The  path  was  too  narrow  and  perilous. 
So  I  kept  my  arm  where  it  was,  and  her  hand  was  still  on 

71 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE    MOON 

my  neck,  but  we  did  not  look  at  each  other  any  more.  The 
weight  of  a  great  embarrassment  lay  heavy  on  both  of  us. 

We  had  not  proceeded  more  than  a  score  of  the  short 
steps  that  men  and  women  take  together  before  they  grow 
accustomed,  when,  at  the  corner  of  the  path,  just  where 
it  widens  towards  the  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon,  a  dark  figure 
sprang  past  us,  with  a  whirr  and  rattle  of  loose  stones. 
Something  long,  sinewy,  and  snakelike  distinguished  the 
man's  movements  even  in  his  haste  and  dim  light.  I  could 
feel  Joyce  shrinking  a  little  towards  me.  I  remember  the 
sensation  distinctly,  because  it  was  the  first  time  I  had 
experienced  it.  The  girl  had  always  seemed  infinitely 
stronger  than  I.  Yet  on  this  occasion,  most  undeniably 
she  shrank  towards  me  for  protection.  And  for  almost  the 
first  time  in  my  life  I  had  a  sense  of  pride  in  myself  as  a 
man. 

As  I  say,  Joyce  shrank  against  me.  It  was  almost,  on 
that  narrow  path,  as  if  I  had  held  her  close  against  me 
from  knee  to  shoulder — a  detail  in  the  roll  of  conquest  to 
a  bold  lover,  but  to  me  utterly  subversive  of  all  the 
feelings  and  resolves  of  a  lifetime. 

"  Harry  Polwart !"  she  exclaimed  under  her  breath,  with 
a  kind  of  gasp. 

"  And  who  is  Harry  Polwart  ?"  I  asked,  a  new  thing 
in  my  voice,  and  a  new  and  wholesome  anger  in  my  heart. 
And  then  I  first  knew  that  I  was  as  other  men.  A  girl 
was  afraid  and  I  was  not.  An  instinct  of  possession  and 
protection  surged  upward  in  my  heart. 

And  I  kissed  Joyce  Faa  for  the  first  time — the  other  did 
not  count ! 


XII 

THE  KISS  PAID  FOR 

WHO  Harry  Polwart  was  it  was  my  destiny  to  find 
out  ere  I  was  an  hour  older. 

Joyce  said  no  more  to  me  then.  Indeed,  for  a  long  time 
after  these  occurrences  we  did  not  speak,  and  I  think  that 
we  went  homeward  to  the  swallow's  nest  of  the  Shieling  a 
little  dazed  and  light-headed.  To  make  matters  worse, 
Meggat  was  short  with  us,  growling  out  to  Joyce  that  if 
she  took  any  interest  in  such  matters,  she  might  care  to 
know  that  Hector  had  almost  arranged  my  ransom  with 
my  father,  and  on  such  favorable  terms  that  they  would 
all  be  able  to  return  to  France. 

"  No  that  auld  Meggat  Faa  will  ever  stir  oot  o'  the  land 
o'  the  Scots — na,  na,  though  they  should  end  by  hangin' 
her  at  a  rope's  end  in  the  Grassmarket  o'  Edinburgh !  But 
young  folk  that  are  sae  fell  fond  o'  gallivantin'  athort  the 
country  will  dootless  be  glad  to  gang  whaur  they  will  get 
their  fill  o't !" 

The  malice  of  Meggat  Faa's  intention  was  obvious 
enough,  and  I  fell  to  wondering  whether,  indeed,  Joyce 
would  be  glad  to  return  to  France — the  country  of  her 
birth  and  her  education,  the  country  of  her  mother.  It 
was  none  of  my  business,  of  course,  but  I  felt  that  I  would 
like  to  know.  The  problem  interested  me  more  than  many 
herds  and  beeves  full-fed,  and  all  the  landed  properties 
in  the  world.  Once  more  the  feeling  came  strongly  upon 
me  that  I,  Maxwell  Heron,  the  son  of  Patrick  and  his  wife 

73 


THE     13ARK     0'     THE     MOOiNT 

]\ray,  was  a  changeling.  Somehow  and  somewhere  their 
true  offspring  must,  like  Ehymer  Thomas,  be  kept  in  servi- 
tude to  the  Queen  of  the  Little  People.  He  would  appear 
one  day  and  I  vanish  in  a  puff  of  sulphur  reek  and  an 
unpleasant  odor. 

Joyce  did  not  answer  Meggat,  either  yea  or  nay.  She 
ate  her  supper  without  interest,  and  presently  took  an 
opportunity,  when  there  was  a  slight  disturbance  without, 
to  slip  off  to  her  own  curtained  cell  (for,  indeed,  it  was 
little  more — accommodation  in  the  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon 
being  somewhat  severely  restricted). 

It  was  in  my  mind  to  follow  her  example  and  forthwith 
proceed  to  mine.  But  something  stifling  in  the  air  of  the 
cavern-dwelling,  a  choking  in  the  blue,  thin,  charcoal  smoke 
that  bellied  beneath  the  low  roof  and  eddied  uncertainly 
from  chimney  and  door  ere  it  dispersed  itself  up  the  face 
of  the  rock,  suddenly  filled  me  with  loathing  unspeakable. 
I  simply  could  not  abide  where  I  was.  Restlessly  I  changed 
the  position  of  my  creepie-stool  till  I  was  beside  the  cruisie 
lamp  which  Meggat  had  lighted.  I  pulled  my  one  book  out 
— a  little  Testament  of  my  mother's.  I  tried  to  read;  but 
the  tiny  characters,  though,  indeed,  marvels  of  type- 
cutting,  ran  together  into  little  whirlpools  as  if  I  had 
looked  at  them  through  knotted  glass. 

At  another  time  I  should  have  taken  this  as  a  sign  that 
I  was  overcome  with  sleep,  and  liad  better  get  me  imme- 
diately to  bed.  But  I  knew  better  now.  There  were 
strange  things  to  be  seen  and  recalled  out  there  in  the 
moonlight  of  the  empty  hills.  I  would  go  again  to  the 
corner,  where — where  Joyce  had  so  nearly  lost  her  life, 
and  where  1  also  had  lost  something,  and  gained — what 
was  it  that  I  had  gained?  I  wanted  to  have  some  one 
answer  that  question. 

T  got  my  wish — it  may  be  my  desert. 

On  the  far  silent  hills  the  moon  rested,  her  sifted  light 
filling   the  glens   with   a    dreamy   vapor.      There   was   a 

74 


THE     KISS     PAID     FOR 

solemnity  about  everything,  the  largeness  of  simplicity; 
yet  with  something  eminently  human  withal  about  it, 
like  the  heart  of  a  good  man  as  it  is  known  to  his  God. 

I  walked  slowly,  now  with  a  kind  of  triumphant  feeling 
that  my  lips  had  indeed  tasted  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of 
knowledge,  anon  with  sharp  teeth  of  self -blame  mordant 
about  my  heart — reproach  that  I  had  so  long  forgotten  my 
mother  and  those  who  were  doubtless  anxious  on  my  be- 
half down  by  the  shores  of  Solway. 

Why  should  I  not  take  my  life  in  my  hands  and  escape? 
I  believed — quite  wrongly,  as  I  now  know — that  I  could 
easily  escape  Hector  Faa's  watchers. 

The  mountains  I  looked  upon  were  wide  and  lowering, 
bossed  with  granite,  and  caverned  with  heather  and  peat- 
hags.  Lochs,  deep  and  solemn,  cut  across  the  glens  and 
wider  straths.  What  hill-gypsy  could  swim  with  me,  who 
had  breasted  Solway  surges  ever  since  I  was  a  little  lad  of 
six — my  only  manful  accomplishment?  My  word  passed 
to  the  daughter  of  an  outlaw — well,  surely  every  man  has 
a  right  to  make  an  effort  for  his  life.  Besides,  had  Joyce 
Faa  not  said  that  I  was  welcome  to  escape,  if  I  would? 
Ah  !  that  was  just  it — if  I  would!    But  did  I  wish  to  ? 

Then  I  took  shame  to  myself  when  I  thought  to  what 
infinitesimal  proportions  Joyce's  kiss  (I  suppose  I  must 
call  it  that)  had  in  a  moment  reduced  my  remorseful 
thoughts  about  my  mother.  I  wonder  if  mothers  expect 
this — if  they  ever  think  of  this  when  they  themselves  are 
in  love?  But  I  suppose  that  in  this,  as  in  so  much  else, 
things  square  themselves  if  let  alone,  and  that  the  ingrati- 
tude of  the  young  to  those  who  brought  them  into  the 
world  is  paid  for  in  kind  when  they  themselves  are  parents 
in  their  turn. 

So  at  the  corner  of  the  path  I  stood  triumphant,  sub- 
dued, remorseful,  smiling,  somehow  altered  from  myself, 
and  foolishly  happy,  because  at  last  I  had  tasted  life's 
sweet  common  good,  when,  swift  as  a  bird's  shadow,  some- 

75 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

thing  dark  leaped  upon  me  from  the  cliff.  I  saw  a  flash 
like  driven  steel  a  moment  cold  in  the  moonlight.  Then 
one  fiery  rending  pang,  and  immediately  I  knew  myself 
to  be  falling — falling — falling ! 

Yet  I  did  not  think  of  death.  It  was  all  much  like  a 
dream.  I  clutched  upward  and  caught  something — hair, 
I  think  it  was.  For  a  moment  I  saw  before  me  the  dis- 
torted, angry  face  of  a  man — my  murderer — hang  over 
me !  Then  the  features  seemed  somehow  to  mingle  with 
the  red  moon,  and  I  knew  I  had  met  my  death  on  the  spot 
where  an  hour  before  I  had  first  tasted  life. 

"  Joyce !"  I  cried.    And  again,  "  Joyce  !" 

And  knew  no  more. 

The  kiss  was  paid  for. 


XIII 

JOYCE    FAA    BRINGS    ME    HOME 

BUT  I  did  not  die.  Of  course  not,  or  I  should  not  now 
be  writing  these  memoirs  of  my  life.  My  murderer 
was  only  my  murderer  in  intent,  if  even  so  much.  But  it 
was  long  before  1  came  to  myself  out  of  the  confused  tracts 
of  whirling  vapor  and  a  certain  stinging  torment  of  White- 
ness that  oppressed  my  brain.  I  can  still  recall  scenes  I 
saw  during  these  nights  and  days  when  I  hovered  on  the 
confines  of  the  Things  that  are  Without. 

I  should  like  to  tell  of  them,  but  meantime  I  should 
certainly  scatter  my  readers.  Still,  I  do  remember  a  white 
city  set  on  a  hill,  with  towers  and  spires  of  churches  here 
and  there,  a  long  white  road  thrown  in  loops  and  wimples, 
up  which  men  toiled  with  eager,  drawn  faces  towards  the 
gates,  few  and  narrow,  of  the  city.  And  as  they  toiled 
aloft  they  wiped  the  sweat  from  their  brows. 

But  ever  and  anon,  here  and  there  by  the  way  great 
black  paws  at  the  end  of  hairy  arms  were  stretched  out 
from  deep  cavern  and  bosky  hollow,  and  lo !  all  suddenly 
the  road  at  that  place  was  empty,  and  the  moiling  pilgrim 
was  not ! 

I  thought  a  deal  upon  this  till  I  remembered  that  a 
certain  man  named  Bunyan  had  seen  much  the  same  thing 
on  hot  summer  nights  in  Bedford  Gaol,  when  the  fever 
held  him.  Then  knew  I  that  I  had  not  really  forgotten 
my  mother  and  her  teachings.  (Afterwards  I  was  told 
that  during  these  days  I  called  often  on  my  mother,  and 
murmured  many  childish  prayers — a  thing  which,  had  I 

77" 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

not  been  told  it,  would  have  seemed  impossible  to  me.) 
For  it  was  not  my  mother's  hand  that  I  held  in  mine 
when  at  last  I  awoke.  It  was — and  the  reader  needs  no 
telling — the  hand  of  Joyce  Faa. 

And  from  this  point,  of  course,  as  books  are  written, 
the  story,  with  an  eddy  or  two,  ought,  according  to  all  the 
canons,  to  flow  equably  to  the  sea  which  is  Peace  and  Love 
and  Mutual  Concord. 

But  so  it  was  not  to  be.  For  though  I  had,  as  it  were, 
proved  the  right  of  my  manhood  to  share  the  common 
good  of  the  race,  I  was  not  a  man  like  my  father,  to  rive 
my  way  onward  like  a  plough  through  stubborn  soil.  I, 
Maxwell  Heron,  born  of  the  race  of  Scots  who  led  the 
charge  at  the  Battle  of  the  Standard,  and  died  in  the  van 
about  King  James  at  Flodden,  was  in  many  things  weaker 
than  a  woman.  And  in  all  (save  perhaps  a  certain  com- 
posure in  the  face  of  danger,  which  I  could  not  help  being 
in  my  blood)  I  was  ever  the  least  heroic  of  mankind.  If 
at  any  time  I  got  credit  for  bravery,  it  was  because  I  was 
taken  by  surprise,  and  had  not  time  to  do  more  or  worse 
than  simply  stand  my  ground. 

Well,  as  I  say,  Avhcn  I  awoke,  Joyce  Faa  held  my  hand. 
And  the  face  that  I  looked  upon  was  full  of  a  rich, 
wrathful  tenderness.  I  know  not  how  better  to  express  it. 
Her  countenance  was  not  strikingly  pale.  It  was  rather 
of  the  hue  of  old  ivory,  but  with  the  tinge  of  health 
through  it.  Yet  the  rich  flooding  red  was  gone  from  her 
cheeks  and  the  lips  had  less  of  their  accustomed  vermilion. 
Perha})s  it  was  that  which  suggested  to  a  disordered  and 
moidered  brain  my  first  spoken  words. 

"  My  dear,"  I  said,  "  you  are  pale.  You  should  put  a 
poppy  in  your  hair." 

Nor  would  I  be  appeased  till  she  had  put  a  bunch  of  red 
bell-heathor  in  the  raven  masses  coiled  so  densely  about  her 
head.  She  set  it  in  Spanish  fashion,  just  above  the  ear,  and 
smiled  a  little  wanly  down  upon  me. 

78 


JOYCE     FAA     BRINGS     ME     HOME 

Then  I  asked  another  question. 

"  How  did  I  come  here  ?    Tell  me." 

"  You  were  found  wounded  almost  to  death,"  she  said. 
"  You  were  carried  hither  from  the  foot  of  the  precipice 
over  which  you  had  been  thrown." 

"  Who  threw  me  ?" 

"  Harry  Polwart,"  she  answered,  shortly,  looking  at  the 
floor. 

"  But  why — what  harm  have  I  done  him  ?  I  never  saw 
this  Harry  Polwart  between  the  eyes,  that  I  know  of." 

Then  Joyce  looked  away  from  me  a  long  while,  and  a 
slow  carnation  mantled  her  cheeks. 

"  He — saw — you — kiss — me  !" 

So  that  was  how  a  perfectly  natural  action — or,  rather, 
an  involuntary  and  instinctive  motion  of  protection — had 
been  interpreted  by  the  person  most  deeply  concerned.  I 
saw  that  I  had  yet  much  to  learn. 

But  not  being  wholly  void  of  sense  and  gratitude,  I  drew 
her  hand  nearer  to  me  and  laid  my  cheek  upon  it. 

"Pardon  me,  dear  Joyce,"  I  said.  "I  had  forgotten 
how  expensive  the  article  was  up  in  these  wilds.  But  I 
have  paid  the  price." 

"  Hush !"  she  said.  "  You  are  very  weak — you  must 
not  talk." 

I  had  just  one  word  more  to  say,  and  I  said  it  ere  deep 
sleep — the  gray,  troublous,  uneasy  sleep  of  wounds  and 
weariness — fell  upon  me. 

"  Dear,  it  was  worth  it !" 

And  I  thought  that  she  might  have  kissed  me  again, 
perhaps,  for  that.  I  seemed  to  have  dreamed  of  such 
things  happening  before  I  awoke.  But  she  did  not — at 
least,  not  that  I  know  of. 

It  was  not  till  three  or  four  days  after  this  that  I  heard 
what  had  actually  happened  at  the  corner  of  the  path. 
And  then  it  was  old  Meggat  who  told  me.  Joyce  herself 
was  entirelv  reticent  upon  the  subject. 

79 


THE    DARK    0^    THE     MOON 

''  Bedded  were  we  safe  and  siccar  in  the  Shiel,"  began 
Meggat  Faa.  "  Na,  I  wasna  sleepin'.  Auld  banes  allow  but 
little  sleep  when  j'e  come  to  the  age  o'  four-score  years  an* 
ten.    But  I  thocht  that  Joyce  was  lang  asleep." 

I  asked  IMeggat  a  question  here. 

"  Na,  an'  troth,  that  gied  me  nae  concern.  For  I  kenned 
that  Hector's  folk  wad  watch  3'e  weel.  There's  no'  a  man 
o'  them  a'  wad  daur  to  gar  Hector  lose  your  ransom-siller, 
were  it  no  that  deil's  birkie  that  smote  ye,  Hairry  Polwart. 
Faith,  he  is  none  feared  even  for  Hector  himsel';  only 
Silver  Sand  himsel'  can  fear  Hairr}^  an'  it  tak's  him  a' 
his  time. 

"  But  after  a  gye  while  I  hears  Joyce  moving  in  her  bit 
chaumer. 

" '  It's  the  disease,'  thinks  I,  '  and  a  sair  poety.  For 
Romany  is  bound  to  mate  wi'  Romany  while  the  world 
lasts.  But  the  fever  o'  young  folk's  blood  wha  can  check  ?' 
Then  Joyce  hersel'  puts  her  head  cot  frae  the  curtains,  as 
it  were,  answerin'  my  thocht. 

''  '  Is  ho  no  comod  in  yet  ?'  she  says. 

"  '  What  should  I  ken  ?'  says  1.  For  it  wasna  in  my  mind 
to  encourage  her.  Then  Joyce  she  says  never  a  word  0' 
guid  or  ill,  but  pits  on  a  wilicoat  abune  her  nicht  gear  and 
slips  oot  canny  as  pussy.  I  think  I  maun  hae  dozed  a  wee, 
for  the  next  that  T  kenned  was  the  door  faain'  back  on  its 
hinges  wi'  a  clash  that  near  hand  brocht  it  doon,  and  there 
stood  the  young  lass  wi'  you  claspit  it  her  airms  and  the 
heart's  bluid  0'  y&  on  her  white  goon.  Sirce,  sirce!  it's 
an  unco  thing  what  love  will  gar  a  young  lass  do  for  a  lad 
— him,  maybe,  no  carin'  ony  mair  for  her  than  for  the  leaf 
that  the  wind  o'  the  back  end  0'  the  year  blaws  against  his 
face." 

She  looked  at  me  sternly  as  she  spoke,  and  T  sustained 
her  gaze,  knowing  full  well  that  I  intended  no  harm  to 
Joyce  Faa. 

Meggat  resumed  her  tale. 

80 


JOYCE     FAA     BRIXGS     ME     HOME 

" '  I  hae  fetched  him,'  she  says  to  me,  wi'  a  kind  o'  sab, 
and  wi'  that  lays  ye  doon  on  her  ain  bed.  '  He  is  dead, 
and  by  the  God  that  made  us,  Meggat,  I  am  gangin'  oot 
never  to  come  back  till  I  hae  killed  the  black  hound  that 
murdered  him — Harry  Polwart !' 

"  And  she  was  Juist  gettin'  doon  her  faither's  gun  (that 
she  can  shoot  wi'  near  as  true  as  himsel')  to  pursue  after 
Hairry  Polwart,  when  I  cried  on  her  to  bide  a  wee.  It  is 
the  maist  strange  thing  that,  though  she  brocht  ye  frae 
the  foot  o'  the  Slide  on  her  ain  back  or  in  her  ain  airms — 
ye  can  speer  at  her  whilk  yin  it  was — she  never  jaloosed 
but  that  ye  were  by  wi'  it  for  this  life !  An'  'deed,  ye  lookit 
fell  like  it.  For  besides  the  drive  ye  had  gotten  frae 
Hairry's  gully-knife  ye  had  cuttit  yoursel'  faa'in'  doon  thae 
dreadsome  rocks,  and,  ta'en  by  and  large,  ye  werena  bonny 
to  look  upon. 

"  But  for  a'  that,  when  I  lifted  the  lid  frae  the  e'e  in 
your  head,  it  wasna  set  and  it  wasna  glazed.  '  Deein',  ye 
may  be,  laddie,'  says  I,  '  but  deid  ye  are  no !'  Sae,  wi'  that, 
Joyce  an'  me  gat  ye  to  bed.  And  here  ye  are,  as  croose 
as  a  cock  on  a  new-turned  midden,  my  young  Laird  o' 
Eathan." 

"  You  may  count  on  me  to  do  that  which  is  right,"  I 
answered  her,  stupidly  enough,  for  I  was  far  too  sick  to 
rise  to  the  height  of  her  argument.  But,  indeed,  what 
was  right  to  do  I  knew  not — nor  did  I  know  then  (nor  for 
long  thereafter)  the  beginning  or  the  middle  or  the  end  of 
the  heart  of  Joyce  Faa,  the  daughter  of  Hector  the  Outlaw. 

As  for  me,  as  I  grew  better  in  body  I  seemed  to  grow 
more  lonely  in  spirit.  Hector  came  home  the  day  after  the 
assault  and  immediately  departed  again,  vowing  ven- 
geance upon  Harry  Polwart  for  so  nearly  defrauding  him 
at  one  blow  of  his  ransom  and  his  revenge. 

After  that  only  the  stated  sentinels  and  spies  were  at 
their  posts,  and  the  Dungeon  itself  was  as  quiet  as  the 
inside  of  a  kirk  on  a  week-dav. 
6  81 


THE    DARK    0"    THE     MOON 

Joyce  was  more  shy  of  me  now,  and  our  old  cheerful  com- 
radeship was  utterly  broken.  A  first  kiss  may  be  like  the 
laying  of  the  foundation-stone  of  an  edifice,  but  it  may 
also  be  the  pulling  out  of  the  key-stone,  which  dooms  the 
whole  bridge  to  destruction. 

I  had  lost  something;  of  so  much  I  was  sure.  But  I 
had  not  made  up  my  mind  whether  I  had  gained  anything, 
or  (despise  me  who  will)  whether,  indeed,  I  desired  the 
thing  that  I  had  gained. 

The  English  of  which  is,  that  I  was  a  young  fool  and 
needed  a  lesson.  And  for  such  a  kind  Providence  generally 
provides  a  competent  preceptor. 


XIV 

THE    MUSTER    OF    RASCARREL 

SHORTLY  before  midnight  the  great  muster  was  set 
at  the  cross-roads  of  Eascarrel.  The  younger  and 
bolder  sort  of  the  Levellers  were  to  be  united  for  the  first 
time  under  a  leader  of  skill  and  daring — so  at  least  the 
rumor  ran.  The  walls  of  Jericho  were  at  once  and  liter- 
ally to  fall  down  flat.  The  lairds,  sons  of  Amalek  and  of 
the  Philistines,  were  to  be  smitten  hip  and  thigh. 

The  chief  of  these  oppressors  of  the  brethren  were  the 
Earl  of  Kirkham  and  an  English  officer  of  late  come  in 
his  wife's  right  to  the  possession  of  a  Galloway  estate,  by 
name  Colonel  Gunter,  of  Dunbeith.  Now  tliese  gentlemen, 
eager  for  progress  and  especially  diligent  to  lay  field 
to  field,  forgot  in  their  haste  that  measures  which  had 
succeeded  well  enough  with  the  more  obedient  and  servile 
peasantry  of  the  southern  English  shires,  were  foredoomed 
to  failure  with  a  population  so  fierce  and  turbulent  as  that 
of  Galloway,  the  natural  wildness  of  whose  nature  had  re- 
ceived a  stern  and  solemn  twist  in  the  direction  of  fanat- 
icism from  the  ill-judged  severity  of  the  second  Charles 
and  his  brother  James. 

In  these  struggles  the  local  lairds  had,  with  but  few  ex- 
ceptions, separated  themselves  from  the  common  folk,  and, 
instead  of  taking  the  hills  with  Fed  en  and  Alexander 
Gordon,  had  chosen  to  remain  and  drink  to  the  death  of 
rebels  and  the  confusion  of  all  Whigs,  in  company  with 
rough-riding  Lag  and  Captain  "Windram,  that  admirable, 

83 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

hard-drinking,  six-bottle  man  who  at  Kirkcudbright  com- 
manded in  the  interests  of  King  Charles's  right  to  appoint 
bishops  over  the  flock  of  God. 

And  now,  iifty  years  afterwards,  the  Galloway  lairds 
were  paying  the  penalty  for  the  sins  of  their  predecessors. 
And  part  of  the  price — the  first  instalment,  as  it  were — 
was  to  be  paid  on  the  night  of  the  Muster  of  Eascarrel. 

It  was  a  curious  sight,  and  one  long  memorable  in  the 
annals  of  cot-house  and  farm-ingle. 

The  cross-roads  of  Eascarrel  were  no  more  than  the 
meeting-place  of  two  green  tracks  that  wimpled  and 
lingered  among  the  heather — by  day  a  little  greener  and 
smoother  on  either  side,  and  in  the  midst  worn  more 
rough  and  red  by  the  plunging  hooves  of  cattle  and  the 
pattering  trotters  of  droving  sheep;  but  by  night  scarce 
to  be  distinguished  from  the  leagues  of  circumambient 
heather. 

But  there  were  several  erect  bowlders  in  one  of  the 
angles  made  by  the  meeting  ways,  which  gave  the  place  its 
alternative  name  of  the  Standing  Stanes  o'  Eascarrel. 

The  gathering  was  not  without  a  certain  rude  pomp  of 
its  own.  High  on  the  highest  standing  stone  was  seated 
a  figure  dressed  in  a  strange  garb,  looking  in  the  flickering 
light  of  torches  and  the  brief  glimpses  of  the  moon  as  the 
fleecy  clouds  scudded  across  her  face,  like  a  monstrous  witch 
playing  before  the  Master  of  Witches  himself. 

A  huge  poke-bonnet  covered  features,  which,  moreover, 
were  blackened,  while  the  whole  flgure  was  wrapped  in 
a  ludicrous  parody  of  feminine  attire,  designed  in  sack- 
cloth or  the  bags  in  which  meal  was  carried  to  market. 
And  this  Witch  of  Endor,  high  placed  above  the  throng, 
elbowed  and  smirked,  as  with  infinite  lilt  of  gracenotes 
borrowed  from  the  Celtic  pipes,  she  played  "  The  tailor 
fell  through  the  bed,  needles  an'  a','"'  '*'  The  Broom  o'  the 
Cowdenknowes,"  "  The  wind  that  shakes  the  Barley,"  and 
other  fast-running,  jigging  tunes. 

84 


THE     MUSTER     OF    EASCARREL 

When  the  two  maids,  Mistress  Grisel  Heron  and  the  false 
Dick  o'  the  Isle,  came  within  sight  of  the  gathering,  I 
think  that  at  least  the  former  was  more  than  a  little 
daunted.  But  the  bearing  of  her  companion  quickly  re- 
assured her.  For  as  soon  as  they  heard  the  sounds  of 
mirth  Captain  Dick  quickened  his  step.  (It  is  best  for 
the  present  to  adhere  to  the  masculine  pronoun.)  He 
firmed  his  lips  one  upon  the  other,  and  with  a  quick 
drawing  in  of  breath  laid  his  hand  upon  the  bunch  of  blue 
ribbons  which  he  carried  at  his  sword-hilt.  When  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  levy,  Grisel  saw  that  not  only  the 
figure  on  the  rock  with  the  fiddle,  but  all  others  of  the 
Levellers,  wore  the  same  costume  as  herself — that  is,  a 
huge  bonnet  concealing  the  face,  and  a  peasant  woman's 
cloak  without  sleeves  belted  the  waist,  leaving  the  arms 
free  for  any  emergency. 

Only  Captain  Dick  of  the  Isle  was  differently  arrayed, 
and  wore  his  close-fitting  suit  of  blue,  his  sword  and  his 
pistols  with  distinction  and  ease.  Though  the  many 
bearded  and  mustached  faces  seen  under  the  poke-bonnets 
revealed  a  preponderance  of  the  masculine  element,  at  the 
same  time  it  was  clear  that  there  were  many  women  in  the 
throng.  These  were  generally  not  armed,  but  kept  to- 
gether in  small  companies  of  two  or  three,  and  carried 
huge  ox-poles,  or,  in  some  cases,  ropes  of  twisted  hide,  by 
which  these  last  were  to  be  fastened  together. 

Half  a  dozen  youths  carried  aloft  torches  of  rosin  roots 
dipped  in  tar,  which  they  swung  vigorously  about  their 
heads  to  quicken  into  flame  as  often  as  they  smouldered. 
The  entire  concourse  could  not  have  numbered  less  than 
two  hundred — all,  except  the  women,  being  well  provided 
with  weapons  of  some  sort  or  other. 

They  received  their  leader  with  a  shout  of  welcome. 
Harry  Polwart  and  his  party  had  sung  his  praises  well, 
and,  indeed,  the  whole  bearing  of  the  young  man  was 
capable  and  daring.    He  alone  had  chosen  to  appear  with- 

85 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

out  mask  or  blackening  of  the  face.  These  common  folk 
felt  that  he  was  risking  much  for  their  sakes.  Moreover, 
he  was  wise  in  counsel.  He  it  was  who  had  bidden  them 
bring  to  the  muster  the  great  ox-poles  fifteen  to  twenty  feet 
long,  the  purpose  of  which  was  so  mysterious,  and  which 
had  been  the  subject  of  so  many  jests  and  muttered  im- 
precations as  they  were  hurried  cumbrously  over  hill  and 
dale  to  the  cross-roads  of  Rascarrel. 

"  Are  you  all  here?"  cried  Dick  of  the  Isle,  taking  com- 
mand at  once.  The  captains  of  companies  briefly  re- 
sponded in  semi-military  fashion,  and  Dick  told  them 
off,  according  to  a  plan  of  his  own,  assigning  picked 
men  to  the  various  portions  of  the  great  enclosure  which 
had  been  erected  by  Colonel  Gunter  about  the  former 
holdings  and  pasturages  of  the  expatriated  cottiers  of 
Dunbeith. 

A  sore  bewildered  man  was  Sammle  Tamson  when  Cap- 
tain Dick  set  him  in  charge  of  those  who  were  to  watch 
the  mansion  house  of  Colonel  Gunter,  situated  on  a  rising 
ground,  from  which,  had  it  been  daylight,  they  would  have 
had  an  admirable  view  of  the  destruction  of  the  doomed 
fences. 

•''  The  voice  is  the  voice  of  Jacob,"  murmured  Sammle, 
shaking  his  head ;  "  but  the  skin  is  the  skin  o'— dcil  tak' 
me,  gin  1  ken  wha's  skin  it  is !" 

But  nevertheless  Sammle  moved  off  obediently  enough 
with  his  company  of  scouts,  charged  with  the  duty  of 
warning  the  Levellers  of  the  approach  of  the  forces  of  law 
and  order. 

Then  Captain  Dick  initiated  the  remaining  divisions  ot 
his  forces  into  the  secret  and  mystery  of  the  ox-poles.  Two 
or  three  of  these  were  to  be  lashed  firmly  together.  A 
company  of  twenty  or  thirty  able-bodied  rebels  was  told 
off,  ten  to  each  pole.  Then  at  a  given  word  the  whole  of 
these  were  to  put  forth  their  strength  as  one  man,  and  the 
hated  fences  would  be  levelled  with  the  ground.    This  they 

86 


THE    MUSTEK    OF    llASCARREL 

pledged  themselves  to  do  as  often  as  the  landlords  con- 
tinued to  rebuild  them. 

At  last  they  stood  at  the  place  where  the  campaign  was 
to  begin.  The  Earl's  dry-stone  dyke  stretched  away  east 
and  west,  looming  up  under  the  clouded  moon  vast  as 
the  Great  Wall  of  China — though,  indeed,  it  was  in  no 
place  much  more  than  six  feet  high. 

In  silence  the  Levellers  took  their  places,  swank  young 
herds  and  horny-fisted  working  women  of  the  fields,  all 
attired  in  the  same  absurd  and  outlandish  costume.  They 
manifested  the  utmost  confidence  in  their  youthful  leader, 
and  obeyed  his  orders  without  scruple.  Probably  this 
would  not  have  been  the  case  had  the  men  concerned  in 
the  affair  been  the  elders  of  the  cause.  But  as  most  were 
young,  and  the  element  of  adventure  entered  largely  into 
"their  motives,  and  they  were  ready  without  question  to 
follow  so  gallant  a  captain  wherever  he  wished  to  lead 
them. 

"  Order  out  the  bars !"  cried  Dick  of  the  Isle. 

The  huge  poles  were  placed  in  position  behind  the 
dykes. 

"  Man  the  bars !" 

Thirty  of  the  Levellers  set  themselves  in  position  to 
push  simultaneously. 

"  When  I  say  three — let  go,  all !    One,  two.  Three  !" 

''And  over  she  goes!"  chorussed  the  Levellers  hoarsely 
at  the  word. 

The  huge,  sky-mounting  ridge  of  newly  built  dykes, 
not  yet  settled  down  on  its  foundations,  swayed  a  moment 
uncertainly.  A  few  stones  toppled  over  upon  the  feet  of 
the  attacking  force,  and  then  with  a  slow,  majestic  bend, 
almost  like  that  of  a  breaking  wave,  a  furlong  of  it  fell 
over  in  one  piece,  with  a  far-resounding  crash,  and  lo ! 
the  green  hill-side  again  stretched  from  horizon  to  horizon 
unbroken  under  the  moon. 

After  this  there  was  no  concealment,  or,  indeed,  any 

87 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

attempt  at  it.  And  this  was  the  policy  of  Captain  Dick 
of  the  Isle.  By  his  very  carelessness  of  observation  he 
meant  to  strike  terror  into  the  Enelosers. 

"  Here  they  come  V 

A  messenger  from  Sammle  Tamson's  outpost  near  the 
mansion  house  of  Dunbcith  informed  the  Levellers  that 
they  were  not  to  be  allowed  to  continue  their  career  of 
destruction  without  opposition. 

But  here  again  the  young  chieftain  of  the  rebels  proved 
himself  worthy  of  their  confidence.  He  placed  a  party  in 
ambush,  and  at  the  head  of  a  score  of  well-armed  young 
fellows,  willing  to  dare  anything,  he  advanced  to  meet  the 
Laird  of  Dunbeith's  men. 

Now  Colonel  Gunter  had  served  in  the  foreign  wars,  and 
was  a  very  headstrong  old  man,  particularly  ill  to  advise, 
and  slow  to  acknowledge  that  circumstances  were  too 
strong  for  him. 

"  Who  are  you  that  come  trespassing  on  my  lands  and 
destroying  my  property  ?"  he  cried.  "  For  this  I  will  have 
you  all  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered !" 

"  Your  lands  you  have  bought  or  inherited,"  answered 
Captain  Dick,  unabashed,  "  but  not  the  souls  of  the  men 
who  have  dwelt  on  them  for  generations,  nor  yet  the  right 
to  destroy  their  bodies  and  cast  out  their  carcasses  upon 
the  waste !" 

At  this  open  defiance  the  Colonel  was  nearly  beside  him- 
self with  frenzy. 

"  If  I  could  see  you  more  clearly,  young  man !"  he  cried, 
"  I  would  not  await  the  verdict  of  the  judge  to  execute 
justice  upon  you !" 

Promptly  Dick  of  the  Isle  stepped  out  before  his  men. 
His  features  were  hidden  by  his  broad  bonnet  of  blue,  but 
the  gallant  defiance  of  his  bearing  could  not  be  mistaken. 
This  was  the  born  chieftain — none  other. 

"  I  am  here  at  your  service,"  he  said ;  "  wait  till  the 
moon  reaches  yonder  clear  space  in  the  heavens,  and  then 

88 


THE    MUSTER     OF    EASCARREL 

execute  your  commission.  You  will  find  us  ready.  You 
will  discover  that  men  fighting  for  their  homes  are  at 
least  as  trustworthy  as  any  pack  of  pensioners  and  hire- 
lings you  can  muster !" 

Colonel  Gunter  strode  forward,  an  imposing  figure  in  a 
cloak  of  military  blue,  holding  himself  erect  and  stifE  in 
spite  of  his  age  and  honorable  wounds. 

"  Halt,  there  !  I  warn  you,  sir,"  cried  young  Dick,  "  keep 
to  your  own  side  of  the  road  and  wait  for  the  moon !" 

It  was  upon  the  verge  of  a  green  drove-road,  through  the 
heather,  that  the  old  officer  found  himself  halted,  and  now 
he  stood  fuming  and  glancing  aloft  in  an  agony  of  angry 
impatience. 

The  moon  ploughed  her  way  through  the  fleecy  stream- 
ers as  if  running  before  the  wind. 

The  tall,  gloomy  figures  of  the  officer  and  of  the  slim 
young  Captain  of  Levellers  fronted  each  other,  waiting 
for  that  clear  shining. 

At  last  it  came.  The  moon  sailed  out,  and  the  soldier 
lifted  his  arm  with  a  pistol  in  his  hand. 

"  Before  you  fire,"  said  Dick  of  the  Isle,  "  let  me  tell 
you,  sir,  that  you  and  your  men  are  entirely  surrounded 
and  at  our  mercy.  You  are  less  than  a  dozen,  all  told ;  we 
are  more  than  two  hundred.  Our  men  are  better  armed, 
as  you  see.  But  we  are  no  murderers.  Go  back  to  your 
home.  We  will  return  to  ours.  But  remember  that  so 
often  as  you  shut  us  out  from  our  ancient  privileges,  so 
often  will  we  put  the  bonds  aside  as  a  man's  hand  shreds 
the  morning  gossamer." 

"Your  claims  are  as  ridiculous  as  your  language, 
sirrah !"  cried  the  angry  soldier.  "  You  are  rank  rebels 
against  his  Majesty  King  George.  You  shall  all  go  to 
the  gallows,  and  to  hell  thereafter !  And  now  I  am  going 
to  shoot  you  where  you  stand  as  a  warning  to  others !  God 
save  the  King !" 

Colonel  Gunter  paused  a  moment,  to  give  the  young  man 

89 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON" 

time  to  reply  or  surrender.  He  did  neither,  only  lifting 
his  left  hand  to  motion  his  followers  to  remain  quiet. 
Then  the  officer  again  pointed  his  pistol  at  Captain  Dick. 
But  before  he  could  pull  the  trigger  his  young  adversary 
had  fired  a  pistol,  resting  his  wrist  upon  his  hip  in  a  way  it 
had  taken  him  many  months  to  acquire,  practising  all 
through  the  afternoons  of  one  summer  upon  the  wild 
shores  of  Isle  Eathan. 

The  distance  was,  indeed,  no  more  than  ten  paces,  and 
the  accuracy  of  the  aim  no  more  difficult  in  the  daytime 
than  it  would  be  to  hit  the  square  face  of  an  empty  Hol- 
lands bottle.  But  with  the  uncertain  glinting  of  the  moon, 
which  alters  all  distances,  and  the  soldier's  threatening 
arm  uplifted,  it  says  something  for  Captain  Dick's  nerve 
that  his  ball,  shot  without  direct  aim,  clipped  the  pistol 
neatly  out  of  Colonel  Gunter's  grasp,  numbing  his  arm  to 
the  elbow,  but  doing  the  old  man  no  other  harm. 

Then,  with  great  grace,  Captain  Dick  bowed,  and  asked 
the  Colonel  if  he  were  satisfied.  The  old  soldier  returned 
the  salutation  curtly  enough,  and  answered  that,  while 
he  could  hold  no  parley  with  manifest  rebels,  still  he 
recognized  that  he  was  to  some  extent  in  their  hands.  He 
would  see  to  it  that  they  had  a  fair  trial,  and  such 
small  chance  of  his  Majesty's  clemency  as  they  could 
expect. 

"  And  as  for  you — who  doubtless  call  yourself  a  captain 
among  your  crew,  let  me  tell  you,  sir,  that  your  speech 
and  manner,  though  I  confess  I  know  not  your  face,  be- 
trays the  gentleman.  There  may  be  some  excuse  for  the 
ill-doing  of  these  ignorant  clowns  I  see  disguised  around 
you;  but  for  you,  a  man  of  education  and  breeding,  let 
me  tell  you,  it  sits  ill  upon  you,  sir — yes,  damnably  ill, 
sir !" 

With  this  the  old  gentleman  moved  off,  taking  no  notice 
of  Dick's  lifted  bonnet.  At  the  distance  of  a  hundred 
yards  he  turned,  and,  shaking  his  finger  at  the  youth,  he 

90 


THE     MUSTER     OF    EASCARREL 

cried,  "  If  I  were  your  father,  sir,  I  would  break  every 
bone  in  your  body  !" 

"  There  is  much  to  be  said  in  favor  of  that  view  of  the 
case,"  responded  Captain  Dick,  smiling  and  bowing  cour- 
teously. 


XV 

THE    ANGERS    OF    EPPIE 

IN  the  midst  of  all  these  strange  events  it  did  not  seem 
to  occur  to  any  one  that  there  might  be  yet  another  point 
of  view  upon  Isle  Eathan — that  of  Mistress  Eppie  Tamson. 
This  strenuous  lady  was  not  the  woman  to  be  left  at  home 
by  her  husband  and  step-daughter  without  a  clear  under- 
standing of  whys  and  wherefores. 

It  was  possible,  of  course,  for  the  culprits  to  enlarge 
upon  the  number  of  interests  which  needed  to  be  seen 
to  "  ower  by  at  the  new  hoose,"  and  especially  in  the  case 
of  the  younger  delinquent  the  close  friendship  of  their 
master's  daughter  Grisel  could  be  made  to  cover  a  multi- 
tude of  absences. 

But  by  the  constant  sum  of  explanations,  each  in  itself 
adequate  and  satisfactory,  a  general  impression  of  distrust 
was  created  in  Eppie  Tamson's  mind — distrust  so  complete 
that  when  next  arrangements  were  made  for  a  simul- 
taneous excursion  to  the  mainland  by  Sammle  and  his 
daughter,  Eppie  resolved  to  be  of  the  party. 

She  did  not  mention  her  purpose,  and,  indeed,  took  con- 
siderable pains  to  conceal  her  arrangements.  Any  one 
acquainted  with  her  abilities  as  the  head  of  a  household 
will  not  be  hard  to  convince  that  these  were  thoroughly 
practical,  and,  indeed,  showed  evidences  of  the  highest  kind 
of  strategy. 

It  was  a  slumberous  autumn  day,  and  Sammle,  after 
declaring  his  intention  to  "  gang  ower  by  and  see  to  the 

92 


THE    ANGEES    OF    EPPIE 

stockin'  o'  the  corn  on  the  Whinny  Knowes,"  dawdled  about 
till  it  was  past  the  middle  of  the  afternoon;  while,  as  for 
Mistress  Marion,  who,  in  this  matter,  "had  Davie  Veitch  also 
to  consult,  she  had  so  often  put  off  her  visit  to  her  friend 
Grisel  that  she  drove  her  step-mother  almost  to  despair. 

"  If  ye  are  gangin',  gang !  and  if  ye  are  bidin',  bide !" 
she  cried,  "  but  for  Guid's  sake  keep  f rae  rinnin'  to  the 
door  ten  times  in  the  meenite  to  see  gin  there's  a  white 
cloot  waved  at  Balcairry  Point !  I  never  was  in  a  hoose  wi' 
siccan  daftness  gaun  on,  and  I'm  no  gaun  to  coontenance 
it  at  my  age !  Sae  I'm  tellin'  ye !  When  I  hae  the  cakes 
bakit  I'm  gaun  to  lie  doon,  and  then  ye  can  baith  gang  to 
Jericho  gin  ye  like  for  me  !" 

This  was  so  extraordinary  a  proceeding  for  Mistress 
Eppie,  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  that  Marion  asked 
her  if  anything  were  the  matter  with  her. 

"  Maitter !"  she  cried,  sharply.  "  What  should  be  the 
maitter,  except  that  I  am  fair  seek  to  my  stammack  o' 
leevin'  within  the  same  fewer  waa's  wi'  twa  clean  daft 
folk !" 

Discussion  was  vain  in  the  house  of  Kathan  with  its 
mistress  in  such  a  frame  of  mind ;  but  there  was  a  general 
feeling  of  relief  when,  having  accomplished  the  baking  of 
the  cake,  and  also  the  proper  firing  of  it,  Eppie  finally  be- 
took herself  to  her  bedroom. 

That  Eppie  had  small  intention  of  remaining  there  will 
afterwards  be  abundantly  manifest. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  that  the  next  conclave  of  the 
Levellers  held  with  all  due  solemnity  in  the  Caldron  of 
Ben  Tudor,  found  itself  unceremoniously  invaded  by  a  stout 
but  determined  woman,  armed  with  the  kitchen  "  beetle," 
or  round-headed  wooden  club  used  for  bruising  or  mashing 
.potatoes,  a  formidable  weapon  in  the  hand  of  one  accus- 
tomed to  wield  it  every  day  of  her  life  against  the  round 
"  dowp  "  of  an  iron  pot. 

03 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE     MOON 

"  Come  oot  o'  this,  Sammle  Tamson !  Hear  ye  me  ?  Did 
ye  leave  the  decent  hoose  o'  Rathan  that  ye  raicht  waste 
your  time  that  is  your  maister's,  your  character  that  is 
your  ain  (what  there  is  o't),  and  your  guid  health  that  ye 
owe  to  your  duty  to  your  wife  ?" 

No  man  calling  her  in  question,  she  proceeded. 

"  And  as  for  that  young  birkie  wha  (they  say)  has  led  ye 
astray,  dinna  let  me  come  across  him  wi'  this  beetle  in  my 
hands,  or  I  will  learn  him  something  that  will  serve  him 
better  than  breakin'  doon  dykes  and  defyin'  them  that  are 
set  in  authority  over  us  !  Bonny  to  look  on,  is  he  ?  Fegs, 
I  wad  sune  mar  his  beauty  gin  I  get  hand  o'  him  !" 

For  Eppie  was  emphatically  on  the  side  of  the  powers 
that  be. 

But  her  threat  remained  words  only.  For  Dick  o'  the 
Isle,  a  lion  in  courage  when  he  had  only  an  old  war-dog 
like  Colonel  Gunter  to  face,  seemed  to  have  as  little  desire 
as  his  seniors  to  underlie  the  formidable  "  beetle  "  of  that 
very  righteous  woman,  Eppie  Tamson,  formerly  of  Moss- 
dale,  now  of  the  Old  Tower  of  Rathan,  when  her  angers 
were  loosened  upon  her. 

It  so  chanced,  however,  that  one  of  the  more  influential 
of  the  Levellers,  by  name  Jacob  Trimmer — an  argumenta- 
tive, mouthy  man,  the  lawyer  of  a  lawless  movement — in- 
terposed himself,  and,  greatly  daring,  drew  upon  himself 
the  ire  of  Eppie. 

"  Woman  !"  he  said,  "  remember  where  you  stand  !  Be- 
ware how  you  interfere  with  the  representatives  of  the 
folk  of  Galloway  in  free  Parliament  assembled  !" 

"  Free  Parliament !"  cried  Eppie,  raising  the  "  beetle  " 
threateningly.  "  Ye  pectif u',  wee,  snarl)led  craitur,  I'll 
learn  you  to  talk  to  me  aboot  yer  '  Free  Parliaments.'  Wha 
elecktit  ye,  I  wad  like  to  ken?  An  assembly  of  rebels 
that,  gin  ye  gat  your  deserts,  wad  swing  at  the  hands  of 
Saunders  Lennox,  the  common  hangman  o'  Kirkcudbright ! 
*  Free  Parliament!'  savs  you.     Guid's  truth,  Jacob  Trim- 

94 


THE    ANGEES    OF    EPPIE 

mer,  I  wonder  ye  hae  nae  mair  shame  in  ye !  D'ye  think 
I  dinna  ken  that  there  was  never  onything  free  aboot  ye, 
forbye  the  stick  ye  tak'  to  your  piiir  wife!  My  certes, 
sirrah !  it  wad  hae  been  tellin'  ye  gin  ye  had  had  for  your 
guidwife  juist  this  same  Eppie  Tamson  that's  standin' 
before  you !  The  verra  first  time  ye  had  lifted  hand  or  fit 
to  her,  she  wad  garred  your  bits  o'  J)rains  play  clash  again 
the  wa'  like  a  jabloch  o'  cauld  parritch !  And  a  great  an' 
lasting  benefit  to  the  world  that  wad  hae  been  !" 

The  argumentative  man  offered  a  remark  in  this  place. 
It  was  not  well-timed,  nor  yet  well  received. 

"  And  wad  ye  daur  to  counter  Eppie  Tamson  wi'  your 
ill-talk,  ye  wee  thrawn-faced  atomy?  Certes,  I'll  learn 
you  !  I'll  level  ye,  bonny  Levellers,  gin  ye  auger  me !  By 
the  faith  o'  an  honest  woman,  gin  I  win  at  ye  wi'  this 
pitato  beetle  I'll  learn  ye  something  aboot  levellin' ! 
Levellin',  indeed!  By  honest  John  Knox,  I'se  do  some 
levellin'  mysel'  the  noo,  an'  wi'  this  verra  beetle!" 

And  with  no  more  preliminary  than  this  Eppie  rushed 
upon  the  upholders  of  a  Free  Land  and  a  Free  People,  and, 
with  the  sternest  and  soundest  of  arguments,  persuaded, 
not  only  Jacob  Trimmer,  but  many  others,  that,  whatever 
virtue  there  might  be  in  these  sounding  entities,  there 
abides  a  power  in  the  cudgel  of  a  woman  free  and  able- 
bodied  which  even  reformers  and  philanthropists  have 
occasionally  to  reckon  with. 

So  not  for  the  first  or  last  time  in  the  history  of  the 
world,  representative  institution  yielded  to  superior  force. 
Providence  exercised  its  ancient  preference  for  the  heavier 
battalions  by  declaring  on  the  side  of  Eppie  and  the  potato 
beetle,  while  in  the  general  tumult  the  council  of  the 
Levellers  broke  up  in  some  confusion. 

"  An'  noo,  Sammle  Tamson,"  said  his  wife,  when  she  had 
him  by  the  arm,  "  come  you  doon  the  brae  wi'  me,  and  I'll 
explicate  to  you  the  inwardness  and  the  ootwardness  o' 
your  iniquity,  and  point  oot  till  ye,  forbye,  what  will  hap- 

95 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

pen  gin  ever  I  hear  tell  o'  ye  again  in  siccan  company  as  I 
fand  ye  in  this  day  !" 

Sammle  was  understood  to  murmur  some  objection 
which  concerned  conscience  and  the  rights  of  the  indi- 
vidual. 

"  See  here,  Sammle  Tamson,"  answered  this  extremely 
convincing  lady,  "  I'm  no  carin'  a  docken  for  a'  your  fine 
words  and  prick-me-denty  whimsies !  But  I,  Eppie  Tam- 
son, will  talk  to  you  in  words  that  ye  will  understand — ay, 
an'  the  wayfarin'  man,  though  as  big  a  fule  as  yoursel', 
will  mak'  nae  mistak'  aboot  them !  See  ye  here !  No'  a 
breakfast  will  ye  get  in  the  hoose  o'  Rathan,  unless  ye 
promise  me  on  your  Bible  oath  to  hae  naething  mair  to  do 
wi'  things  that  are  unlawfu' !  And  never  a  chack  o'  supper 
will  pass  your  teeth  but  ye  accoont  to  me,  as  ye  will  ae  day 
to  your  Maker,  for  ilka  hour  o'  the  twenty-fower  an'  ilka 
minute  o'  ilka  hour.  Ay,  and  mind  you,  I'll  no  be  pitten 
aff  wi'  ony  story,  faceable  or  unfaceable;  nor  wall  ye  be 
able  to  get  through  in  the  crood,  as  ye  micht  houp  to  do 
on  That  Day.  I  ken  ye,  Sammle  Tamson !  I'll  no  hae  sae 
mony  on  my  mind  as  Him ;  an'  I'll  be  the  better  able  to  gie 
ye  my  undivided  attention,  as  the  lawyer  bodies  say,  '  all 
and  hale.'  Sae  try  nane  o'  your  lees  an'  equippitations  wi' 
me,  Sammle  Tamson !" 

Sammle  visibly  quailed  at  the  prospect  before  him.  The 
years  stretched  themselves  ahead,  one  long  eternity  of 
domestic  inquisition,  and  Sammle  felt  that  he  was  not 
sufficient  for  these  things.  Nevertheless,  all  unmoved, 
Eppie  went  on  her  way. 

"  Ay,  and  what's  mair — leavin'  you  oot  o'  the  accoont 
for  the  present — there's  that  lass  Marion !  Do  ye  think  I 
am  blind  and  deaf  and  stupid,  as  the  adder  that  stoppeth 
her  ears?  That  lassie  is  no  rinnin'  here  and  watchin' 
yonder  withoot  some  auld-farrant  ploy  in  the  head  o'  her. 
And  what  I  say  to  you,  I  say  to  her.  I  hae  gane  through 
Davie  Veitch  with  a  hazel  rung,  as  if  I  had  searched  his 

96 


THE    ANGEKS    OF    EPPIE 

inward  pairts  wi'  a  lichtit  candle,  and  it's  wonderfu'  what 
an  amount  o'  information  ye  can  get  oot  o'  the  craitur,  juist 
by  diligence  in  your  vocation  and  a  willin'  airm.  Noo, 
I  willna  hairm  the  lassie.  Gin  she  was  my  ain,  as  she  is 
yours,  and  no  mine — I  wad  lang  ere  noo  hae  kaimed  her  wi' 
a  bane  kame !  But  ye  didna,  and  I  wadna.  Sae  Marion 
Tamson  is  the  lassie  that  she  is  this  day.  The  Lord  that 
kens  a'  things,  keep  the  puir  bairn  frae  bein'  misled,  for 
I'm  sair  feared  she  is  walkin'  in  a  devious  way ! 

'^  As  T  say,  Eppie  Tamson  will  never  lift  a  hand  on  her 
— no,  though  she  tak's  to  robbin'  the  mail-coach  on  the 
King's  highway  !  And  by  what  Davie  Veitch  lets  on  to  me, 
she  is  no  that  far  frae  that  even  noo ! 

"  But  gin  she  is  to  bide  in  the  hoose  o'  Eathan,  suppin' 
o'  my  good  brose  an'  stappin'  the  horn  into  my  sonsy  kail- 
pot,  she  maun  e'en  behave  hersel'  seemly,  as  becometh  a 
douce  and  solate  maid.  That  she  is  a  bonny  yin,  a'  fowk 
sees  that  has  e'en  in  their  heid ;  and  a'  the  mair  because  o' 
that  does  it  behoove  her  to  be  byordinar'  douce.  For  the 
better-faured  a  lass  is  in  this  warld,  the  mair  ill  will  folk 
find  to  say  aboot  her,  and  the  less  excuse  will  they  mak', 
gin  her  foot  slips  in  the  way !  Sae  mind  ye,  Sammle,  tell 
the  lass  that  when  next  ye  forgather  wi'  her !  For  it  will 
come  better  aff  you  nor  me — you  bein',  as  it  were,  airt  and 
pairt.  if  no  heid  and  front,  in  the  same  transgression !" 

7 


XVI 

MAY   MISCHIEF    CONTRIVES 

AND,  indeed,  it  was  just  at  this  time  that  Marion  of  the 
_  Isle,  though  deeply  attached  both  to  her  father  and 
step-mother,  recognized  the  impossibility  of  remaining 
longer  in  the  ancient  tower  of  Eathan  under  present  con- 
ditions. It  followed  that  she  went  direct  to  Orraland, 
where  Grisel  Heron  rejoiced  with  a  great  rejoicing. 

There  was  nothing  unusual  in  such  an  intimacy  among 
our  simple  Galloway  folk.  As  every  one  knows,  my  father 
and  mother  had  been  deeply  interested  in  Marion  from  the 
time  of  the  Great  Kaiding.  Indeed,  my  father  has  else- 
where written  fully  the  story  of  her  childish  adventurings. 
In  consequence  of  this,  and  also  because  of  his  wife's  lik- 
ing for  the  maid,  my  father,  Patrick  Heron,  had  Marion 
brought  up  along  with  my  sister.  They  attended  the  same 
schools,  sewed  at  the  same  samplers,  followed  the  same 
copy  lines,  and  became  greater  and  closer  comrades  every 
year. 

They  were  the  better  friends  that  their  characters  were 
quite  opposite.  Grisel,  as  sweet  a  maid  and  loyal  a  sister 
as  ever  drew  the  breath  of  life,  was  ever  of  lighter  and  more 
sportive  mind  than  JMarion.  Not  that  the  maid  of  the 
Isle  could  not  be  mirthful  and  tricksome  too  upon  due 
provocation.  But  it  was  upon  occasion,  and  was  apt  to 
alternate  with  periods  of  depression  and  extreme  blame  of 
self.  Grisel  Heron,  on  the  other  hand,  was  ever  a  spring- 
time maid,  wanton  of  jest  and  prank  as  a  lamb  on  the 

98 


MAY    MISCHIEF    CONTRIVES 

green  April  pastures.  Marion  grew  up  a  true  September 
beauty,  fertile  of  resource,  rich  in  thought,  prodigal  of 
self  in  the  cause  of  those  she  loved,  but  inclined  by  nature 
to  certain  oft  recurring  storminesses  of  mood — as  in  her 
birth-month  serene  autumnal  days  are  apt  to  alternate 
with  the  sudden  turbulence  of  winds  equinoctial. 

It  was  natural  enough,  therefore,  that  Marion  and 
Grisel  should  be  much  together.  And  the  arrangement 
was  favored  by  my  mother,  with  whom  Marion  of  the  Isle 
was  a  prime  favorite — so  great,  indeed,  that  to  her  much 
was  permitted  or  overlooked  which  would  have  brought 
the  swiftest  condemnation  upon  others. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Marion  lass,"  said  my  father, 
for  his  share  in  the  welcome ;  "  this  gives  me  two  daugh- 
ters instead  of  one !" 

All  this  time  Patrick  Heron  and  his  wife  did  not  say 
much  about  my  absence,  and  that  to  those  who  knew  them 
was  the  truest  gauge  of  what  they  thought.  The  negotia- 
tions for  my  ransom  were  conducted  through  Silver  Sand, 
and  that  wise  counsellor  had  advised  no  overt  movement 
against  the  outlaw  of  the  Dungeon  in  the  mean  time.  He 
was  convinced  that  my  liberation  could  be  effected  better 
without  bloodshed.  The  county  was  quieter  than  it  had 
been  twenty  years  ago,  when  the  country  rose  against  the 
hill  gypsies.  Hector,  dniven  to  extremities,  was  a  more 
desperate  outlaw  than  any  of  those  who  had  sojourned 
about  the  Dark  House  of  Craignairny,  and  if  his  scouts 
brought  him  word  of  the  advance  of  any  armed  party 
against  him,  it  was  ten  to  one  that  he  would  cut  my  throat 
out  of  hand,  and  forthwith  remove  himself  out  of  the 
country. 

Besides,  Silver  Sand  expressed  to  my  mother  his  confi- 
dence that  I  would  certainly  be  well  looked  after  by  Joyce 
and  Meggat,  the  two  women  who  dwelt  with  Hector  Faa 
in  the  Shieling  of  the  Dungeon. 

And  my  mother,  though  at  first  the  notion  of  ministrant 

99 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE     MOON 

womankind  in  my  afflictions  appeared  to  comfort  her,  grew 
restive  as  the  weeks  rolled  on,  and  finally  declared  her  in- 
tention of  going  to  the  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon,  alone  and  un- 
accompanied, if  none  would  help  to  bring  her  son  home 
to  her. 

And  she  developed  this  idea  more  than  ever  after  Marion 
came  to  the  Orraland.  For  in  her  my  mother  found  a 
sympathetic  listener  and  a  ready  helper  in  any  madcap 
ploy. 

But,  as  was  their  custom,  the  three  women  said  nothing 
to  my  father — who,  to  tell  the  truth,  had  a  little  settled 
down  upon  the  lees  of  his  comfort  about  this  time,  and  de- 
sired nothing  so  much  as  that  all  things  should  be  done 
decently  and  in  order.  For  one  thing,  he  had  made  up  his 
mind,  by  the  advice  of  Silver  Sand,  that  the  offer  of  a 
reasonable  ransom  was  the  best  way  to  get  his  son  home 
again.  If  he  had  been  advised  that  the  matter  could  better 
be  settled  by  an  armed  invasion  of  the  outlaw  territory, 
no  man  would  have  enlisted,  equipped,  and  led  a  band 
more  swiftly,  more  boldly,  or  more  successfully,  as  has 
indeed  been  proven  over  and  over  again. 

But  Patrick  Heron  had  gotten  past  the  wildness  of  his 
adventurous  youth  by  this  time,  and  was  glad  to  take  the 
straightest  and  most  easily  trodden  path  to  his  goal,  with- 
out very  much  care  whether  or  no  it  led  him  through 
scenery  particularly  picturesque.  But  so  it  is  with  most 
Avho  have  spent  a  gamesome  and  various  youth.  When  the 
body  begins  to  clothe  itself  with  its  natural  over-coverture 
of  fat,  what  wonder  if  the  mind  also  begin  to  incline  a 
little  to  a  kindred  adipose. 

So  the  women  of  the  house  of  Orraland  took  counsel 
with  each  other,  admitting  no  lireeched  thing  to  their 
secrets,  and  specially  swearing,  all  three  of  them,  not  to 
breathe  a  word  of  their  intent  to  my  father  or  Silver  Sand. 
At  the  right  moment,  if  it  should  be  judged  necessary, 
Jasper  Jamie  was  to  be  admitted  to  so  much  of  the  high, 

100 


MAY    MISCHIEF    CONTRIVES 

mystery  as  it  was  good  for  him  to  know,  my  sister  Grisel 
and  Marion  of  the  Island  jointly  and  severally  offering  to 
be  his  vouchers. 

"  We  can  do  what  we  like  with  Jasper  Jamie !"  cried 
Grisel,  with  a  little  touch  of  scorn.  At  this  time  they 
were  all  for  Hector  Faa,  Harry  Polwart,  Captain  Cleve- 
land, and,  in  general,  such  as  were  accounted  desperate 
adventurers,  so  that  even  poor  Jasper's  broken  head  and 
bloody  clouts  gained  him  no  great  consideration  from  these 
freaksome  lasses. 

But  a  little  sojourn  at  the  Shieling  of  the  Dungeon, 
particularly  in  the  stable-caverns  thereof,  is  the  best  cure 
for  such  foolish,  romantical  notions.  For  though  I  deny 
not  that  some  of  the  women  there  are  indubitable  angels, 
yet  if  the  men  folk  be  such,  at  all  events  they  are  by  no 
means  of  that  sort  which  lost  not  its  first  estate. 

"  I  see  not  what  there  is  'twixt  here  and  the  Dungeon  to 
hinder  us,"  said  my  mother ;  "  why,  when  I  was  May  Max- 
well, and  a  younger  woman,  I  have  ridden  all  the  way, 
and  thought  little  enough  of  it !" 

"  Ay,  mother  mine,"  said  Grisel,  who  was  sitting  at  her 
knee  in  the  pleasant  little  parlor  that  overlooks  Eathan 
and  its  bay ;  "  but  then  you  were  in  love  !" 

"  And,  pray,  what  am  I  now.  Mistress  Malapert  ?"  quoth 
my  mother ;  "  do  you  think  a  woman  would  do  more  for 
her  sweetheart  than  she  would  twenty  years  after  for  her 
son  ?     If  so,  you  have  much  to  learn !" 

"  Let  us  argue  it  out,  pros  and  cons,  as  men  do," 
my  mother  went  on,  after  a  pause.  "  Marion,  you  have 
the  mind  to  advise;  let  us  hear  your  thought  upon 
the  matter.  First,  then,  there  is  the  difficulty  of  getting 
away — " 

"That  we  may  leave  to  Jasper  Jamie,"  Grisel  inter- 
rupted ;  "  if  he  fail,  so  much  the  worse  for  him !" 

"  Then  there  is  the  journey,"  said  my  mother;  "  that,  I 
think,  we  will  manage  very  well.    One  night  at  the  Ferry- 

101 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

town  of  Cree,  one  at  Bongill  or  the  Borgan — a  long  day  up 
to  the  Dungeon — and  back  again !" 

Marion  of  the  Isle  laughed  out  suddenly.  "  Oh,  that  is 
the  point  at  last,"  she  said ;  "  '  and  back  again.'  But  then 
the  question  is,  would  you  get  back  again  at  all?  'Tis 
a  question  that  has  two  sides  to  it." 

"  Let  us  hear  them,  Marion,"  said  my  mother.  She  had 
great  belief  in  the  practical  wisdom  of  the  girl's  advice. 
Perhaps,  indeed,  more  than  she  would  have  had  if  she  had 
known  all  the  surprising  story  of  Dick  o'  the  Isle  and  his 
bonnet  of  blue. 

"  Why,  then,"  said  Marion,  "  there  is  this  in  it — if  one 
prisoner  at  ransom  bring  in  so  much  money  to  Hector  Faa, 
how  much  more  will  four  bring  in?  'Tis  a  sum  in  Rule 
of  Three,  and  perhaps  Mr.  Patrick  Heron  of  Rathan  might 
not  like  the  answer  to  it !" 

"  But  I  say  no,"  said  my  mother,  who  had  set  her  heart 
upon  the  venture.  "  Hector  knows  as  well  as  we  do  when 
he  is  at  his  tether's  end,  and  he  would  never  risk  raising 
the  country,  as  he  would  do  if  a  couple  of  fair  maids  and 
one  well-considered  dame  were  held  to  ransom  among  the 
hills  of  the  Dungeon.  Besides,  methinks,  Silver  Sand 
might  have  a  word  to  say  if  his  brother  kept  not  his 
courtesy  to  us." 

"  Why  should  Silver  Sand  do  more  for  us  than  for  poor 
Max?"  said  Grisol,  who  never  could  bear  that  I  should  be 
slighted,  even  in  seeming. 

"  Silver  Sand  knows  far  more  than  all  the  rest  of  us," 
said  my  mother,  loyal  as  ever  to  her  friends ;  "  and  we 
have  proved  him  with  the  proof  of  five  and  twenty  years, 
remember.  He  will  do,  and  is  doing,  what  is  best  for 
Maxwell,  whom  he  judges  to  be  in  no  great  danger  as  to 
his  person.  If  the  worst  happened,  he  would  also  do  the 
best  for  us !" 

"  But,  why  ?"  said  Grisel ;  "  if  Max  is  in  no  great  danger, 
and  in  the  way  of  being  happy  with  a  vastly  pretty  girl 

102 


MAY    MISCHIEF    CONTRIVES 

(for  so  Silver  Sand  reports  of  her),  why  go  all  that  way 
and  rim  risks  for  that  which  will  doubtless  come  right  of 
itself?" 

My  mother  looked  at  Grisel  with  a  certain  amused  con- 
tempt. 

"  '  'Tis  little  that  bairns  ken  aboot  law-burrows  !'  as  your 
father  says,"  quoth. my  mother.  "  Do  you  think  that  I  can 
bide  to  have  my  one  son  so  long  in  the  house  of  a  fremit 
lass  I  have  never  seen  ?  Grisel,  T  canna  rest  in  my  bed  till 
I  hae  looked  into  the  e'en  o'  this  Joyce  Faa,  and  kenned 
whether  or  no  she  be  true  woman !" 

And  it  seemed  to  my  mother  that  Marion  of  the  Isle 
nodded  an  assent. 


XVII 

IN  WHICH  I  MAKE  A  POOR  APPEARANCE 

WHILE  all  these  various  events  were  happening  npon 
the  Solway  shore  I  remained  with  Joyce  and  ^leg- 
gat  Faa  upon  the  rocky  side  of  the  Dungeon  of  Buchan. 

The  real  negotiations  for  my  release  were  not  carried 
on  among  the  hills,  but  at  some  of  the  low-country  haunts 
frequented  by  Hector  Faa  and  known  to  his  brother  Silver 
Sand. 

So  I  knew  nothing  of  them — nor,  indeed,  did  Joyce 
and  I  greatly  wish  to  know.  God  wot  I  am  no  hero  (as 
will  too  often  appear),  and  in  nothing  am  I  less  lieroic 
than  in  making  provision  for  the  future.  My  o^\ti  mother 
has  often  warned  me  of  this. 

"  If  your  meat  be  well  readied,  Maxwell,  your  bed  made, 
and  the  day  fine,  a  book  to  read  or  a  lass  to  talk  to — there 
ye  are !  Your  heaven  is  accomplished — ay,  though  your 
father  should  break  his  heart  and  her  that  bore  you  lament 
Hke  Eachel  and  refuse  to  be  comforted !" 

This  reproach  may  be  true  enough  as  far  as  concerns 
myself,  and  I  do  not  deny  that  constitutionally  I  am  con- 
tent too  easily.  But  my  mother  hath  the  faculty  also,  and 
I  am  well  convinced  (and  informed)  that,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  my  mother  did  not  lament  like  Rachael  nor  did  my 
father  utterly  break  his  heart.  In  fact,  he  would  not  allow 
any  one  to  take  a  ho])oless  tone  al)Out  me  at  all. 

"  There  never  was  an  ill  Imt  there  micht  be  a  waur,"  he 
said,  in  one  of  his  frequent  proverbs,  and  as  for  my  mother, 

104 


I    MAKE    A    POOR    APPEAEANCE 

the  reader  knows  in  what  manner  she  refused  to  be  com- 
forted. But  this  is  ever  the  lot  of  those  who  are  born  out  of 
their  due  time  or  who  cannot  run  in  beaten  tracks  all  their 
days.  Their  sanity  is  doubted,  their  sincerity  sneered  at, 
their  motives  questioned.  They  are  called  selfish,  foolish, 
vain,  and,  though  it  be  with  them  but  the  sixth  hour  of 
the  day,  they  have  oftentimes  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  mid- 
night excesses  of  others.  At  least,  so  it  has  been  with  one 
such,  whom  I  know  well,  to  which  statement  of  fact  I, 
Maxwell  Heron,  adhibit  my  name  and  style. 

And  this  is  why,  in  the  Sbiel  of  the  Dungeon,  I  abode 
with  my  friend  Joyce  Faa,  not  wholly  happy,  yet  by  no 
means  ill-content.  It  was  already  autumn,  and  that  and 
no  other  is  the  crown  of  the  Scottish  year.  The  front  of 
October,  so  be  it  brings  with  it  a  week  or  so  of  still, 
gracious  weather,  is  very  height  of  living.  Oh !  these  early 
crisp  mornings  up  there  at  the  Dungeon,  when  the  hoar- 
frost lay  for  the  better  part  of  an  hour  gray  on  the  heather, 
and  then  was  lifted  suddenly  away  with  such  an  elation  of 
golden  sunbeams  set  aslant  from  over  the  edge  of  the  world, 
and  such  brisk  whirring  of  muirbirds  (which  I  went  out  to 
shoot  for  our  larder,  Joyce  following  after,  like  a  young 
roe  upon  the  mountains),  such  inexpressible  freshness  of 
the  clean  high  air,  such  nearness  of  the  sky — which,  never- 
theless, when  you  lay  on  your  liack  and  looked  upward 
at  it  became  instantly  infinitely  removed.  Will  ever 
such  sfood  davs  come  again?  I  wot  not.  We  have  grown 
old. 

For  one  cannot  run  the  wheels  back  upon  the  tracks  of 
life,  nor  again  be  two-and-twenty,  and  out  on  the  hills  with 
a  maid  whose  hand  meets  yours  by  instinct  at  each  steepy 
turn  of  the  brae. 

Was  I  in  love  with  Jo3^ce  Faa?  A  hard  question,  and 
one  not  lightly  to  be  answered.  Perhaps  ay  and  no  at  the 
one  time.  I  was  most  like  a  young  colt  in  a  field  of  red 
and  white  clover.    I  had  had  such  abundance  of  clover  all 

105 


THE    DAKK    0'    THE    MOON 

my  life  that  I  began  to  question  whether  after  all  I  did 
not  prefer  plain  meadow  hay. 

Jasper  Jamie,  who  had  the  masculine  faculty  of  being 
able  to  be  in  love,  principally  with  one  and  subsidiarily 
with  half  a  dozen  others,  as  opportunity  afforded,  all  at 
the  one  time,  would  have  had  no  doubts.  He  would  have 
forgotten  (for  the  time  being)  that  there  was  another  girl 
in  the  world  besides  Joyce  Faa,  and,  to  use  his  own 
inelegant  phrase,  would  have  "gone  it  deaf  and  blind." 
ISTow  I  know  not  why  this  should  be  accounted  a  better 
way  than  mine.  For  Jasper  Jamie,  being  at  Orraland, 
would  have  been  equally  ready  to  do  the  same  with  my 
sister  Grisel,  with  Marion  of  the  Isle,  or,  indeed,  with  any 
of  the  pretty  maids  about — who  could  be  induced  to  listen 
to  him,  that  is.  But  of  these  there  were  not  many,  for 
Jasper's  little  frailty  had  become  known,  and  the  girls 
wickedly  confided  to  each  other  his  stock  phrases  of  pas- 
sionate devotion.  So  that  on  more  than  one  occasion  our 
minx  of  a  Grisel  prompted  him  when  he  paused  for  a 
word  or  disremembered  a  quotation,  "  By  heaven  and  earth 
and  all  the  powers  that  be — " 

(Here  Jasper  halted,  being  afflicted  with  a  butter-finger 
memory). 

"  I— I— ah  !    Mumm— " 

"  '  I  swear  that  never  have  I  loved  but  thee !'  That  is 
what  you  said  to  Marion."  Thus,  in  somewhat  disconcert- 
ing fashion,  Grisel  would  continue  Jasper's  quotation  for 
him. 

Now  to  me  the  futility  of  such  proceedings  cannot  be 
expressed.  More  than  that,  and  what  is  perhaps  of  more 
importance,  the  thing  itself  did  not  greatly  amuse  me. 

So  it  came  about  in  September  I  was  no  more  to  Joyce 
Faa  than  I  had  been  the  night  before  the  affair  of  Harry 
Polwart — a  confession  of  extraordinary  weakness,  as  most 
men  count  weakness. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Silver  Sand  appeared  in  the 
lOG 


I    MAKE    A    POOK    APPEARANCE 

Shieling  of  the  Dungeon  with  his  proposition.  It  had  been 
long  delayed,  it  seemed;  but  when  it  came,  then  for  the 
first  time  I  seemed  to  see  Silver  Sand  in  his  true  colors, 
and  all  his  lifetime  of  loyalty  and  service  to  my  parents, 
and  incidentally  to  myself,  was  swept  away  in  a  moment. 

I  have  said  that  in  many  things  I  was  delicate  as  a  girl. 
Yet  all  the  more,  there  was  in  me  a  subsoil  of  obstinacy, 
and  when  I  thought  myself  wronged,  no  one  could  resist 
with  more  zeal  or  determination.  Indeed,  I  often  enough 
bested  Jasper  Jamie  at  this  game.  For  he,  being  large  and 
good-natured,  would  give  in  rather  than  fight  the  matter 
out.  The  which  I  do  not  deny  that  I  took  advantage  of 
to  weary  him  into  doing  as  I  wanted,  a  thing  which, 
though  primarily  for  my  advantage,  yet  generally  turned 
out  to  be  for  his  also.  For  his  judgment  was  by  no  means 
equal  to  mine. 

It  was  a  keen  autumn  morning,  about  six  of  the  clock, 
the  sun  just  rising  over  the  top  of  ]\Iillfore  to  the  east. 
I  went  out  to  observe,  as  my  custom  is,  the  dawn.  It  was 
a  true  autumnal  sunrise,  rich  and  smoky,  with  the  pinks 
and  reds  of  summer  all  deepened  to  russet  and  misty  gold, 
infinitely  more  lovely  withal,  like  an  awkward  school-girl 
miss  who,  to  her  own  surprise,  grows  beautiful  at  twenty. 
With  a  keen  sense  of  enjoyment  I  stood  watching  the 
moorbirds  busy  about  their  avocations,  the  snipe  circling 
and  quavering  far  overhead,  the  knot  and  dotterel  going 
twittering  down  to  the  shallow  pools  to  wet  their  legs,  the 
herons  standing  like  statues  in  the  lochs  to  spear  eels  and 
young  pike,  and — what  was  as  much  part  of  the  scheme  of 
nature  and  life  up  in  these  solitudes,  the  blue  smoke-drifts 
from  the  Shieling,  which  rose  along  the  rock-scarp  of  the 
Dungeon  and  disengaged  themselves  impalpably  from  the 
verge,  like  mist  drawn  upward  by  the  sun's  heat,  ere  they 
melted  into  a  yet  bluer  blue  too  fine  for  human  sight  to 
follow  them  further. 

"  Silver  Sand !"  I  cried,  and  ran  to  him  as  soon  as  I 
107 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE     MOON 

saw  him  come  up  out  of  the  east,  as  it  were,  backed  by  the 
ruddy  sunrise. 

He  reached  a  hand  to  me,  palm  downward  as  usual. 

"  What  brings  you  here  so  early  ?  You  must  have 
travelled  all  night." 

He  smiled  his  patient  smile — not  an  old  man's  smile, 
though  he  must  have  been  nigh  on  to  seventy.  Silver 
Sand  did  not  look  any  particular  age.  One  might  have 
guessed  him  anywhere  between  forty-five  and  sixty,  for  no 
look  or  action  suggested  old  age. 

"  Ah  !"  he  answered,  "  I  was  born  on  the  hills.  1  shall 
die,  as  I  hope,  on  the  hills.  The  clean-strae  death  of  the 
house-dweller  is  not  for  Silver  Sand.  Yestreen  I  rested 
in  a  cave  on  the  side  of  Lamachan,  and  thought  upon 
many  things.  And  I  had  good  reason  to  bethink  me,  for 
to-day  I  am  to  risk  the  friendship  of  my  oldest  friends, 
and  the  good-will  of  a  lad  whom  I  love." 

He  paused  awhile  in  thought,  and  looked  so  sad  and  so 
gentle  withal  that  my  heart  went  out  to  him. 

"If  it  be  anything  that  concerns  me,"  I  said,  "make 
yourself  easy.  Be  not  afraid.  I  know  your  good  heart. 
I  will  do  even  as  you  bid  me." 

He  shook  his  head  gently. 

"  That  you  say  because  you  do  not  yet  know  the  thing 
it  has  been  laid  upon  me  to  propose.  It  is  my  brother's 
last  word.  Ransom  in  money  he  will  not  accept  from  any 
of  your  house — " 

"  But — but,"  I  exclaimed,  greatly  surprised,  "  I  thought 
— my  father  wrote  tliat  the  matter  was  in  the  way  of 
being  arranged !  And  it  was  Hector  Faa  who  gave  me 
the  letter  himself.  I  am  sure  that  at  that  time,  at  least, 
he  had  no  very  implacable  thoughts  with  regard  to  me !" 

"  No  more  has  he  at  this  present,"  said  Silver  Sand. 
"  He  has  changed  his  mind  about  accepting  money,  that  is 
all." 

"  And  tell  me,  then — what  he  will  accept  ?"  I  said,  lay- 
108 


I    MAKE    A    POOR    APPEARANCE 

ing  my  hand  on  his  arm.  "  Tell  me  quickly,  Silver 
Sand !" 

"  Some  folk  would  not  consider  it  any  hardship — I 
should  not  myself,  at  your  age.  It  is  that  j'ou  marry 
sweet  Mistress  Joyce  yonder !" 

And  with  his  hand  he  pointed  in  the  direction  of  the 
Shieling,  and  lo !  at  the  door  stood  the  girl,  shadi^ig  her 
eyes  with  her  hand  and  looking  out  towards  us.  She  was 
a  tall  maid  of  her  inches,  lithe  as  a  panther,  and  so  soon 
as  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  us  she  came  bounding  along  the 
narrow  rocky  paths  and  threw  her  arms  about  Silver 
Sand. 

"  Uncle  !  Uncle  !"  she  cried,  "  this  is  the  gladdest  sight 
I  have  seen  for  many  a  day !  What  has  brought  you  here, 
and  where  have  you  slept  all  night?  Are  you  hungry  for 
breakfast  ?    I  am  glad — so  glad  to  see  you !" 

"  These  are  too  many  questions  all  in  a  breath,"  he 
answered,  gravely  smiling,  while  I  stood  a  little  aback 
from  them,  dumb  and  frozen;  "the  wind  of  seventy  years 
or  thereby  doth  not  avail  to  answer  all  these.  But  if  you 
will  make  a  choice  of  one  among  so  many,  I  will  answer  that. 
Choose  it  carefully,  as  you  would  choose  a  sweetheart." 

But  instead  she  replied  with  a  new  pair  of  questions, 
not  on  her  former  list. 

"  How  long  are  you  going  to  stay,  and  is  my  father 
with  you?" 

"  I  am  alone,  and  how  long  1  must  stay  depends  on  the 
convenience  of  this  young  gentleman." 

As  he  spoke  Silver  Sand  looked  warningly  at  me. 

Joyce  Faa  looked  at  me  in  a  kind  of  bewilderment,  with 
which  a  certain  apprehension  seemed  to  be  mingled. 

"  Is  he — has  Mr.  Heron  been  ransomed  ?"  she  asked. 
I  glanced  at  her  in  surprise.  The  words  were  not  spoken 
with  her  usual  slow,  sweet  intonation.  They  fell  somehow 
shortly  upon  the  ear. 

"  It  was  upon  such  an  errand  that  I  came  hither,"  said 
109 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE    MOON 

Silver  Sand;  "that  is,  on  behalf  of  your  father,  I  have 
made  a  proposition  to  this  gentleman  to  which  he  has  not 
yet  replied." 

Joyce  appeared  to  gather  from  her  uncle's  tone  that  he 
desired  to  be  alone  with  me,  and  with  a  bright  little  nod 
and  smile  betook  herself  to  her  duties  in-doors.  Silver 
Sand  and  I  were  again  left  on  the  hill-side. 

Yet  the  whirling  chaos  of  my  mind  was  not  appeased, 
but  rather  increased  by  the  sight  of  Joyce  Fa  a,  and  the 
look  that  she  cast  at  me  out  of  her  eyes.  It  is  strange  to 
think  that  it  was  at  that  very  moment  that  I  made  up  my, 
mind  for  the  first  time  of  what  color  they  were,  though  I 
had  often  enough  disputed  the  matter  with  her  before. 
But  at  that  instant  of  time,  when  I  knew  that  she  was 
afraid  within  her  that  our  comradeship  of  the  months  was 
at  an  end,  and  I  (be  content,  God  has  punished  me!)  was 
beginning  to  cherish  hard  and  unworthy  thoughts  even  of 
her — I  discovered  that  her  eyes  were  the  exact  color  of  the 
dark  under-bark  of  the  silver  birch — that  which  is  revealed 
when  the  top  skin  curls  up  and  reveals  a  rich  brownish 
purple  underneath,  soft  as  moss  velvet. 

Why  this  so  chanced  I  do  not  know,  but  the  fact  was 
so,  and  not  otherwise. 

"  Well,"  said  Silver  Sand,  "  you  have  heard  what  I  had 
to  say,  Maxwell,  and  I  presume  from  what  my  brother 
tells  me  that  the  offer  can  hardly  be  unacceptable  to  you. 
Joyce  is  a  fit  mate  for  any  man  of  any  degree.  She  was 
well  educated  in  France,  in  a  fashion  to  which  few  of 
the  maidens  of  Scotland,  even  our  own  fair  pair  at  Orra- 
land,  can  lay  claim.  That  she  is  fair  to  look  upon,  I  do 
not  need  to  inform  you.  That  she  is  good,  you  have  not 
been  so  long  in  her  company  without  finding  out.  That 
she  is  ill-fitted  for  the  rough  life  here,  goes  without 
saying." 

"I  own  all  that,"  said  I,  speaking  at  last;  "and  yet 
I  cannot  answer  you." 

110 


I    MAKE    A    POOR    APPEARANCE 

Were  it  not  that  I  have  also  to  record  my  remorse  and 
my  punishment,  I  could  not  bear  to  write  down  here  cub- 
bish impertinences. 

"  Come — come,"  he  said ;  "  surely  this  is  not  a  hanging 
matter.  It  should  not  take  a  young  lad  of  spirit  long  to 
make  up  his  mind  upon  an  offer  so  much  in  harmony 
with  his  conduct  during  the  last  three  months." 

"  I  cannot,  Silver  Sand,"  I  said,  with  what  I  thought 
creditable  firmness.  "  I  will  be  married  to  no  maiden 
against  my  will !" 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say,  Maxwell  ?" 

"All,"  I  cried;  "surely  no — a  thousand  times  no.  I 
have  more,  to  say — much  more.  I  have  also  several  ques- 
tions to  ask — " 

"Which  I  will  answer  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge," 
said  Silver  Sand,  unmoved. 

"  First  of  all,  then — does  my  father  know  of  this — and 
my  mother?"  I  was  certain  that  my  father  knew  nothing 
of  the  matter — less  sure  of  my  mother.  For  she  had  ever 
many  whimsies. 

"  No,"  said  Silver  Sand,  shortly ;  "  they  do  not  know — 
yet  r 

"Then  I  tell  you  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
affair !"  said  I. 

Silver  Sand  laughed — the  easy,  tolerant,  entirely  sapient 
laugh  of  the  man  of  the  world  who  has  seen  many  things 
and  knows  their  outcome. 

"  Of  one  thing  I  can  inform  you.  Master  Heron ;  your 
father  and  mother  were  not  troubled  with  any  such  fine 
scruples  at  your  age,"  Silver  Sand  said,  and  there  was 
something  of  contempt  in  his  voice  as  he  spoke.  But  to 
that  I  was  accustomed,  and  cared  little  for  it.  I  had 
only  one  life  that  I  knew  of,  and  I  must  do  the  best  with 
that,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  without  considering  too  much  of 
what  this  one  and  that  other  would  think  of  me. 

"  That  is  possible,"  answered  I ;  "  but  then  I  am  not 
111 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON" 

my  father  and  ni}'  mother — and  so  have  perforce  to  arrange 
my  own  conduct  as  best  I  may." 

Silver  Sand  smiled. 

"  It  is  an  error  of  the  very  yonthf ul,"  he  said,  "  that 
they  can  improve  off-hand  upon  the  ways  of  their  forbears. 
You  will  allow  that  I  am  well  known  to  and  approven  by 
your  father  and  mother.  I  am  trusted  by  them,  and  am 
not  likely  to  venture  anything  to  cause  that  trust  to  be 
withdrawn.  Will  you  believe  me  when  I  say  that  if  they 
knew  all  that  I  know  of  the  matter,  I  am  certain  they 
would  unhesitatingly  add  their  entreaties  to  mine,  and, 
if  need  be,  their  commands." 

"  Even  so,"  I  replied ;  "  one  would  be  as  vain  as  the 
other,  unless  I  had  made  up  my  own  mind.  ]\Ioreover, 
how  do  you  know  that  I  have  not  another  affair  on  my 
hands,  and  another  sweetheart  left  behind  me  to  whom  I 
am  betrothed?  I  may  not  have  spent  these  twenty-two 
years  in  vain,  any  more  than  many  another  young  man." 

He  seemed  for  the  moment  a  little  nonplussed,  and  his 
countenance  fell, 

"  Surely  not,"  he  said  at  length ;  "  after  all,  )'0u  are  the 
son  of  Patrick  and  May  Heron.  And — I  have  heard  of 
the  affair  of  Harry  Polwart,  and  who  it  was  that  saved 
your  life.  I  can  tell  you  this — if  you  have  played  the 
hound,  neither  she  nor  I  will  be  able  to  save  it  a  second 
time !" 

"  Well,  we  will  pass  from  that  for  the  present,"  I  said. 
"  I  may  have  no  sweetheart,  and  yet  decline  to  insult  a 
woman  by  offering  her  an  empty,  loveless  heart !" 

"  I  am  informed  that  you  have  acted  as  if  your  heart 
were  very  full  indeed  !" 

"  As  to  that,  you  are  at  liberty  to  inquire  of  Mistress 
Joyce,  whether  by  word  or  deed  I  have  done  aught  to  give 
reason  for  that  assertion." 

Silver  Sand  looked  at  me  steadily  for  the  best  part  of 
a  minute. 

112 


I    MAKE    A    POOR    APPEARANCE 

"  I  suppose  that,  for  a  likely  young  man,  and  a  lad  of 
your  inches,  ye  are  aware  that  ye  are  making  a  remarkably 
poor  appearance !" 

"  I  am  aware,"  I  answered,  "  that  many  might  think 
so.  But  I  did  not  count  you  among  the  number,  Silver 
Sand.  It  is,  as  I  have  seen  the  world,  better  to  be  a  little 
cautious  beforehand  than  have  the  livelong  rue  after- 
wards." 

"  Have  you  anything  more  to  ask  me  ?"  said  Silver 
Sand.  "  I  see  that  it  grows  nigh  breakfast-time,  and, 
indeed,  I  have  cause  to  be  ready  for  that  same.  Besides, 
it  is  an  exercise  more  useful  for  the  mouth  than  this 
barren  questioning." 

"  That  I  have,"  said  I ;  "  and,  first,  what  does  the 
young  lady  herself  know  of  this  demand  ?" 

"  Nothing  whatever !"  said  Silver  Sand,  emphatically, 
and,  for  the  first  time,  with  some  anger  at  my  persist- 
ence. 

"  Then,"  said  I,  "  I  am  willing  to  abide  by  her  verdict 
when  the  proposition  is  made  to  her!" 

Silver  Sand  flashed  a  look  at  me,  as  though  he  had  not 
expected  so  much  finesse  from  my  father's  son. 

"  Which  of  us  is  to  put  the  proposition  before  her,  let 
mc  ask?"  he  queried,  shrewdly,  in  his  turn. 

"  You,"  said  I,  to  the  full  as  dryly  as  he. 

Now  this  seemed  to  me  at  the  time  the  best  solution. 
For  I  had  every  confidence  in  the  delicacy  of  mind  which 
I  had  noted  on  all  occasions  in  this  daughter  of  an  out- 
law. No  spirit  could  be  more  graciously  full  of  proud 
reserve  than  Joyce  Faa's.  She  would  shrink  even  as  I 
from  a  compulsory  marriage,  and  I  should  be  delivered 
from  the  false  position  in  which  I  was  placed. 

"  I  am  content  to  leave  it  so !"  I  said.  "  But,  finally, 
tell  me  what  is  the  alternative  of  my  refusal?" 

Then,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  saw  the  gypsy  blood 
leap  up  quick  and  savage  in  Silver  Sand's  eyes.  It  was 
8  113 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

something  beyond  anger — a  pity  for  the  ignorance  of  my 
race. 

"  My  brother  does  not  offer  you  any  alternative — save 
thatr 

He  pointed  to  where,  over  the  shoulder  of  the  Eig  of 
Enoch,  we  could  just  see  the  lean,  leaden  oval  of  the  un- 
plumbed  Murder  Hole  cutting  the  autumnal  russet  of  its 
fringing  reeds. 

"  That  is  your  alternative !"  he  repeated,  with  a  certain 
grim  solemnity. 


XVIII 

I    DECIDE    THAT    I    AM    NO    HERO 

IT  was  not  till  breakfast  was  well  over  that  anything 
more  was  said  upon  the  subject  which  Silver  Sand  had 
sprung  upon  me  so  suddenly.  During  the  meal  Joyce  re- 
garded her  uncle  with  sparkling  eyes,  and  it  was  plain 
that  he  was  a  high  favorite  with  her,  as  indeed  he  was 
everywhere.  Meggat  Faa,  though  obviously  no  little  in 
awe  of  the  head  of  the  name  and  clan,  chattered  inces- 
santly, sometimes  in  some  dialect  unknown  to  me  (for 
these  gypsy  folk  have  a  language  or  jargon  of  their  own) 
and  sometimes  in  the  ordinary  Scots'  of  the  country-side. 

It  struck  me  as  curious  that  upon  his  first  entrance  into 
the  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon,  both  Meggat  and  Joyce  took 
Silver  Sand  by  the  hand  and  kissed  a  thick  silver  ring 
which  he  wore  upon  his  little  finger.  I  knew  not  the  mean- 
ing of  this  rite  then,  nor  did  I  ask,  for  I  had  other  things 
to  think  of.  But  I  doubt  not  it  was  some  relic  of  the 
ancient  fealty  to  the  anointed  King  of  the  Gypsies — the 
true  Eey  Assoluto,  of  the  most  ancient  monarchy  in  the 
world. 

Yet  all  passed  without  any  notice  taken,  being  as  quickly 
over  and  done  with  as  our  shaking  of  hands,  a  thing  too 
common  to  be  either  noted  or  dwelt  upon. 

Joyce,  in  the  intervals  of  her  serving,  sat  at  the  table's 
end,  her  pretty  chin  sunk  upon  her  hand,  and  her  e3^es 
shining  with  good-will  upon  her  uncle,  yet  not  wholly  disre- 
garding me,  where  I  sat  opposite,  glooming  with  the  black 

115 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

dog  on  my  back,  grinding  my  teeth  to  think  what  a  fool  I 
was,  and  yet  for  the  life  of  me  not  able  to  help  it. 

However,  so  long  as  the  breakfast  lasted,  and  the  three 
of  us  abode  in  the  Shieling,  we  got  no  further  forward, 
though  all  the  time  I  was  cudgelling  my  brains  as'to  what 
I  should  say  or  do.  Joyce  Faa  was  my  friend  of  many 
weeks,  my  comrade,  the  companion  whom  in  my  walks  I 
certainly  preferred  to  all  others.  But  equally  certainly 
life  is  a  longish  journey,  and  (till  recently)  I  had  felt  no 
overwhelming  desire  to  possess  this  girl  and  none  other, 
such  as  the  poets  had  led  me  to  believe  was  the  necessary 
sign  and  corollary  of  love. 

Yet  I  had  set  my  word  to  the  bond  betwixt  myself  and 
Silver  Sand,  and  stand  to  it  I  must. 

Grice  Baillie  and  the  other  retainers  of  the  Shieling 
came  in,  ate  and  drank  silently  and  awkwardly,  more  like 
sullen,  faithful  dogs  than  men  of  intelligent  human  kind. 
Then  they  slouched  out  again,  making  the  same  acknowl- 
edgment of  rank  to  Silver  Sand,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
women.  He  said  a  word  or  two  to  them  in  the  jargon 
which  I  did  not  understand,  and  presently  there  was 
Joyce  busily  washing  up  the  dishes  and  listening  to  the 
tales  of  Silver  Sand  about  the  great,  brave  days  before  the 
world  grew  old  and  dull. 

To  me  it  seemed  neither  one  nor  yet  the  other.  In- 
deed, I  could  have  wished  it  more  of  both.  For  here 
was  I,  a  young  man  romantically  captive,  in  charge  of  a 
fair  jailer — in  fact,  provided  with  all  the  accessories  and 
opportunities  of  a  hero,  and  yet — I  heartily  wished  my- 
self well  out  of  it,  and  a  decent  citizen  of  Dumfries  with 
a  shop-counter  in  front  of  me  and  the  curves  of  a  capon- 
lined  stomach  interfering  l)etwoen  my  eyes  and  toes. 

Yet  I  was,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  a  hero.  Every  man 
must  be,  of  the  tale  he  tells  of  himself.  Yet  what  sort  of 
appearance  did  I  make  in  the  two  great  requisites  of 
a  hero.    A  hero  must  vanquish  his  enemies  and  make  love 

116 


I    DECIDE    THAT    I    AM    NO    HEKO 

to  his  sweetheart.  Whereas  I  had  merely  gotten  me  a 
clout  on  the  head,  and  been  brought  to  my  prison-house 
like  a  bale  of  goods  without  striking  a  blow. 

Still  worse,  here  was  a  maiden  fair  as  the  goddesses  of 
old  time,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  at  my  disposition — 
yet  I  did  not  know  whether  I  wanted  her  or  not,  and,  like 
a  poltroon,  hung  tardy-foot  on  the  apex  of  my  fate.  Truth 
to  tell,  my  mother  had  spoiled  me.  I  had  been  so  con- 
tinually with  women,  and  they  had  made  so  much  of  me, 
that,  like  an  apprentice  in  a  sweet-stuff  shop,  I  had  grown 
not  to  care  about  any  of  them. 

God  forgive  me  for  being  such  a  conceited  ape !  But 
at  any  rate,  in  the  dry  of  the  leaf,  I  was  made  to  smart 
for  it. 

I  could  see  Silver  Sand  edging  the  conversation  round  to 
get  us  both  out  of  the  house.  "  Would  IMeggat  come  out 
on  the  hills  for  a  breath?"  "It  was  years  since  she  had 
trodden  the  white  beaches  of  Loch  Enoch."  "It  would 
remind  her  of  the  days  when  he  travelled  the  country 
with  his  donkey,  and  by  selling  'sharpening'  for  the 
'  strakes '  of  the  mowers,  earned  his  name  of  Silver  Sand." 

"  Na,  na,"  cried  old  Meggat,  holding  up  her  hands  in 
horror  of  the  suggestion;  "never  on  this  side  of  Daith's 
river  will  the  e'en  o'  Meggat  Faa,  that  was  born  o'  the 
Kers  o'  Blackshiels  on  the  Border  Side,  seek  to  rest  on 
the  bluidy  shores  o'  Enoch,  or  on  the  Pit  o'  Sheep  frae 
whilk  was  ta'en  oot  nae  fewer  than  seventeen  bodies  o' 
strong  men.  jSTa,  na ;  it's  bad  eneuch  as  it  is,  to  ken  that 
it  lies  awa'  back  there  ahint  the  cliffs  o'  Buchan's  Dungeon. 
But  how  you,  John,  that's  a  Faa  born  and  the  King  o'  a' 
the  folk  o'  Egypt,  can  bide  to  look  on  that  valley  o'  destruc- 
tion is  mair  nor  I  can  tell !  But  gang  ye,  gang  ye  blithely. 
Maybe  ye  will  learn  the  second  generation  to  mind  what 
the  first  has  forgotten,  and,  indeed,  what  nane  but  puir 
auld  Meggat,  that  is  as  good  as  dead,  ever  gies  a  thocht  to !" 

So,  thus  despatched,  the  three  of  us  went  out  again  into 
117 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

the  wide,  wholesome  morning,  full  of  living  breath  and 
the  crying  of  birds.  It  is  pleasant  to  be  on  Enoch-side 
when  the  sun  shines — not  so  marvellous,  indeed,  as  to  see 
its  surges  through  the  driving  snow-swirls  as  the  short 
fierce  afternoons  of  winter  close  in.  Still,  even  so,  and  in 
the  summer  weather,  there  is  ever  a  sense  up  there  that 
somehow  heaven  is  near,  and  the  evil  things  of  the  earth 
remote.  "  Not  with  change  of  sky  changes  the  mind  of 
man,"  saith  the  ancient.  But  where  Enoch  is  held  up  to 
the  firmament  as  upon  a  dandling  palm  of  granite  rock 
by  Nature,  the  Great  Mother,  the  souls  of  men  seem  in- 
sensibly to  grow  larger  and  simpler,  if  not  conspicuously 
wiser. 

This  is  what  we  looked  upon. 

Beyond  to  the  west,  the  massive  buttresses  of  the 
Merrick  descended  to  the  water's  edge  in  myriad  scarp 
and  counterscarp,  bastion  and  piled  earthwork,  laid  out 
by  engineer  greater  than  that  French  Mons.  Yauban  now 
so  highly  acclaimed. 

Green  snatches  of  turf,  narrow  selvage  of  granite-sand 
shining  silver  white,  granite  piers  stretching  out  every 
way  half  across,  with  water  enough  alongside  each  to 
float  a  king's  ship — fret  and  babble  and  lisp  of  live  water 
all  through  this  bright  stirring  autumn  day — while  above, 
continuous  as  the  wavelets,  the  swoop  and  cry  and  blithe- 
some clangor  of  muirfowl.  Such  was  Loch  Enoch  as  we 
saw  it.  And  the  sight  has  remained  in  my  mind,  from 
which  so  many  things  more  important  have  utterly  faded. 

For  the  better  part  of  an  hour  Silver  Sand  said  nothing 
about  the  question  he  was  to  put  to  Joyce.  The  girl 
leaned  happily  and  unsuspectingly  upon  his  arm,  or  sprang 
on  ahead,  alert  as  a  young  goat  to  point  out  something 
new  and  strange  on  the  hill-side,  or  to  bring  back  a  handful 
of  purple  blackberries,  late  ripe  at  these  altitudes,  to  give 
her  uncle  pleasure. 

"  But  you  have  not  been  very  lonely  of  late,  Joyce," 

118 


I    DECIDE    THAT    I    AM    NO    HERO 

said  Silver  Sand  at  last,  "  with  this  prisoner  of  yours  to 
look  after?" 

"  No ;  I  have  not  been  lonely,"  she  answered,  simply, 
looking  directly  at  him,  and  speaking  without  embarrass- 
ment. 

"  You  two  have  been  good  friends  ?"  asked  Silver  Sand, 
as  directly,  but  with  a  certain  obvious  meaning  beyond 
what  the  words  conveyed. 

The  gypsy  girl  flushed  a  little — a  ripe  dark  flush  in 
which,  as  it  were,  one  saw  the  rich  color  of  the  under-run- 
ning blood.    It  was,  to  my  mind,  one  of  her  rarest  beauties. 

She  glanced  once  at  me,  perhaps  to  condition  her  reply 
according  to  whether  I  was  near  enough  to  hear  her  words. 
Then  she  replied  to  me,  and  not  to  Silver  Sand. 

"  We  have  been  good  friends,  you  and  I — is  it  not  so  ?" 

She  turned  upon  me  as  she  spoke  with  a  quick  spriteli- 
ness  of  questioning  unmistakably  foreign.  I  had  been 
lingering  sullenly  a  step  or  two  behind,  making,  as  Silver 
Sand  had  truly  remarked,  no  good  appearance  for  one  of 
my  age  and  parentage.  And  I  did  not  reply  to  her  ques- 
tion. 

"Joyce,"  said  Silver  Sand,  without  an  alteration  of 
voice,  and  as  if  he  were  commenting  upon  the  scenery, 
"  your  father  has  ordered  you  to  marry  this  young  man. 
Are  you  willing  to  obey  ?" 

She  uttered  a  little  quick  cry,  and  in  a  moment  straight- 
ened herself  as  a  wild  fawn  might  do,  stricken  while  peace- 
fully grazing  by  the  hunter's  bullet.  If  I  might  say  so, 
the  words  of  Silver  Sand  seemed  to  splash  her  very  life's 
blood. 

Then,  if  I  had  been  anyways  hard-hearted,  I  might  have 
distinguished  a  complete  study  of  emotions.  But,  foolishly 
indurating  my  heart,  I  saw  nothing  except  that  this  proud, 
shy  creature  of  the  hills  and  glens  had  certainly  known 
nothing  of  the  matter.  She  was  more  innocent  of  it  far 
than  I. 

119 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE    MOON 

For  some  time  she  tried  hard  to  regain  composure  and 
ask  a  question,  but  her  tongue  refused  its  ofSce.  She  could 
only  look  helplessly  from  Silver  Sand  to  me,  and  from  me 
back  again  to  Silver  Sand.  I  cursed  her  uncle  for  the 
brutal  abruptness  of  his  question.  But  now  I  see  well 
why  he  did  it  thus.  God-forsaken,  worthless  fool  that  I 
was,  he  did  it  to  shame  me  by  the  very  dumbness  of  the 
sweet,  wild,  young  creature's  pain. 

A  cat-o'-nine-tails  across  my  back  would  have  fitted  me 
better  than  such  consideration. 

But  at  this  time  I  had  no  bowels — and  by  that  sign  I 
knew  myself  for  a  man.  Yet,  to  do  me  justice,  I  never 
meant  in  aught  to  wrong  or  hurt  her,  or  to  do  anything 
that  had  not  in  it  both  right  and  honor. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  her  lips  said  at  last,  the  words, 
as  it  were,  straining  past  many  barriers  to  win  out. 

"  Your  father  demands,  as  the  price  of  this  young  man's 
freedom,  that  he  should  marry  you,"  said  Silver  Sand, 
with  his  pitiless  precision ;  "  what  have  you  to  say  to 
such  a  proposal?" 

Joyce  Faa  lifted  one  long,  very  long  glance  at  me  where 
I  stood  petulantly  kicking  up  the  white  sand  on  the  mar- 
gin of  the  baylet  among  the  rocks  of  Enoch.  It  was  such  a 
look  as  had  never  crossed  me  before.  It  seemed  to  explore 
me  to  the  depths  of  my  soul.  The  eyes  of  the  maid,  for 
well  did  I  know  her  to  be  the  purest  and  the  truest  maid 
God  had  made,  rested  on  me  a  long  moment,  as  if  to  make 
certain  of  my  mind  with  regard  to  her — or,  it  might  be, 
to  give  me  space  for  repentance.  But  I,  pitiable  hound, 
did  not  respond  to  her  eyes — not,  it  is  some  small  comfort 
to  reflect,  from  any  lack  of  love,  but  because  my  wretched 
pride  would  not  allow  me  to  take  even  the  thing  that  I 
most  desired  upon  compulsion.    So  at  least  I  told  myself. 

Well,  I  wot,  if  my  appearance  had  been  poor  before,  it 
was  absolutely  dastardly  now.  I  let  Joyce  Faa's  appeal 
fall  to  the  ground.    And,  as  I  say,  the  only  consolation  is 

120 


I    DECIDE    THAT    I    AM    NO    HERO 

that  I  have  suffered,  liver  and  skin,  soul  and  marrow,  for 
that  moment's  cowardice.    As,  indeed,  I  richly  deserved. 

Then  at  last  she  spoke,  drawing  herself  up  haughtily  and 
like  a  princess,  as,  indeed,  she  was.  Pride,  woman's  best 
coadjutor,  had  come  to  her  aid,  and  any  love  there  might 
have  been  in  her  heart  for  Maxwell  Heron  was,  for  the 
time  being  at  least,  sent  to  its  own  place. 

"  I  will  never  marry  this  man  while  heather  grows  and 
woods  are  green,"  she  said ;  "  no,  not  though  I  were  to 
be  all  my  days  a  handmaid  in  the  house  of  the  stranger !" 

And  I  thought  that  as  she  spoke  these  cruel  words  Silver 
Sand  nodded  his  head  approvingly. 

But  he  went  on  to  do  his  commission  according  to  the 
terms  thereof. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  understand,"  he  continued,  gently ; 
"this  young  man.  Maxwell  Heron,  younger  of  Rathan,  is 
presently  held  a  prisoner  under  ransom.  Now,  this 
present  offer  is  not  an  alternative  between  the  payment 
of  a  sum  of  money  and  a  proposition  of  marriage.  This 
young  man  must  choose  whether  he  will  marry  you — or 
die !" 

"And  he  has  chosen  Death — rather  than  me!" 

There  was  divine  fire  in  her  eyes  as  she  spoke,  and  she 
drew  herself  up  till  she  seemed  tall  as  a  queen  of  tragedy. 

"  He  has  chosen  Death  rather  than  me  !"  she  repeated. 

Whereupon  I  made  haste  to  explain  that  I  had  not  yet 
given  any  answer.  1  tried  to  tell  her  that  I  had  left  the 
answer  to  her,  and  promised  to  abide  by  her  word;  but 
she  would  listen  to  nothing.  And  I  am  bound  to  say  I 
admired  her  for  it.  She  was  wholly  and  perfectly  in  the 
right. 

She  waved  her  hand  with  the  back  towards  me,  as  if  to 
keep  even  my  words  at  a  distance. 

"You  did  answer — or,  rather,"  she  said,  "if  you  did 
not  answer,  that  is  all  the  answer  I  need — now  and  to  all 
eternity !" 

131 


THE    DAEK     0'    THE    MOON 

And,  being,  in  some  measure,  made  crosswise,  as  a 
woman  is  made,  I  admired  her  more  then  than  during 
all  the  months  I  had  passed  in  her  company. 

Then  she  turned  her  about. 

"  I  will  leave  you  two  to  continue  your  discussion !"  she 
said.  And  with  that  walked  proudly  away  up  Loch  Enoch- 
side,  leaving  the  two  of  us  standing  like  statues  gazing 
after  her.  And  I  scarcely  need  to  say  that  no  queen  going 
to  execution,  with  the  consciousness  of  the  proud  oblige- 
ment  of  race  and  conscious  wrong  upon  her,  ever  walked 
more  nobly  erect  than  this  daughter  of  Hector  Faa,  the 
gypsy  outlaw,  to  her  poor  swallow's  nest  of  clay  and  wat- 
tles among  the  cliifs  of  the  Dungeon. 


XIX 

THE    STABLE-CAVERNS 

SILVER  SAISTD  and  I  stood  looking  at  each  other.  I 
think  he  smiled  a  little,  but  the  eye  that  met  mine  was 
like  the  edge  of  sharp  steel.  He  nodded  slightly  and  cool- 
ly, as  to  a  compulsory  acquaintance. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  as  neither  of  you  will  wed  the  other, 
this  pleasant  sojourn  of  mine  at  the  Shiel  is  finished.  I 
have  no  more  to  say.  I  must  return  to  my  brother.  Mean- 
time, it  is  my  duty  to  commit  you  to  the  care  of  Mistress 
Joyce  Faa's  successor,  and  I  hope  you  will  like  the  change." 

He  paced  slowly  to  the  men's  quarters — certain  caverns, 
rudely  square,  half-natural  cavities,  half  hewn  by  gradual 
enlargement  out  from  the  rock.  Here  dwelt  Grice  Baillie, 
Orr  McCaterick,  the  drunken  dominie,  and  others  of  their 
kind,  the  chief  of  them  being  this  tongueless,  sleepless, 
loyal  Grice,  to  whose  custody  I  was  now  to  be  committed. 

On  my  way  thither  I  made  a  final  appeal,  but  I  had 
better  have  kept  silence. 

"  Silver  Sand,"  I  said,  "  you  have  called  yourself  my 
father's  friend.  You  saved  my  mother  when  her  years 
were  no  more  than  mine  I  Can  you  let  their  son  perish 
before  your  very  eyes,  or,  at  least,  as  soon  as  your  back  is 
turned  ?" 

A  little  expression  of  disappointment  overspread  Silver 
Sand's  countenance  when  I  began  to  speak.  He  walked 
somewhat  faster,  as  if  to  escape  my  words,  so  that  I  judged 
that  shame  moved  within  him. 

123 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

"  I  think  you  do  not  understand  ni}^  position/'  he  said, 
with  a  sort  of  firm  suavity ;  "  I  came  hither  simply  as  an 
ambassador.  I  have  no  power  or  influence  with  my 
brother,  who  has  barely  been  even  friendly  with  me  for 
3'ears.  I  undertook  this  embassy  because  it  seemed  to  me 
that  your  father's  friend  might  have  more  influence  with 
you,  and — and — with  the  young  lady,  than  another  and  a 
rougher  go-between.  But  since  you  both  refuse — why,  my 
task  is  the  sooner  ended.  T  can  only  endeavor  to  use  my 
good  offices  with  my  brother  and  try  to  obtain  some  milder 
solution  of  the  difficulty  than  a  plunge  in  the  Murder 
Hole  down  there,  which,  I  tell  you  frankly,  was  the  threat 
on  his  tongue  when  I  left  him." 

"  But,  Silver  Sand,"  I  urged,  "  if  it  be  come  to  this,  my 
parole  is  returned  to  me.  You  will  help  me  to  escape  ?  I 
could  have  done  it  a  thousand  times  before,  but  for  my 
passed  word  to  Joyce.  I  am  under  no  promise  now.  Let 
Grice  Baillie  and  his  kind  keep  me,  if  they  can !" 

"  Young  man,"  said  Silver  Sand,  solemnly,  "  when  once 
I  am  gone  from  this  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon  I  will  move 
heaven  and  earth  to  save  you !  j\[eantime,  I  am  here  as  a 
trusted  ambassador,  and  I  would  not  stir  hand  or  foot  to 
help  you  till  I  am  out  of  Hector  Faa's  country — not 
though  a  score  of  Maxwell  Herons  were  to  plumb  the 
Murder  Hole  to-morrow  morning!" 

This  little  better  tang  of  temper  seemed  to  relieve  Silver 
Sand  considerably,  and  it  was  in  an  altered  voice  and  with 
a  more  kindly  demeanor  that  he  resumed. 

"  Nor  do  I  think  that  you  asked  this  thing  seriously," 
he  went  on,  "  and  in  any  case  it  would  have  been  in  vain. 
See  here !" 

He  put  a  couple  of  fingers  to  his  mouth  in  the  moor- 
land way.  The  note  of  the  whaup  rang  out,  three  times 
repeated,  as  true  and  perfect  in  tone  as  my  father  had 
told  me  concerning  it  twenty  years  before.  I  had  often 
asked  Silver  Sand  to  perform  it  for  me;  but  he  appeared 

124 


THE     STABLE-CAVERNS 

to  attach  something  sacred  or  superstitious  to  the  gypsies' 
signal,  and  though  he  would  readily  mimic  all  other 
birds  he  could  never  be  induced  to  imitate  the  whaup — 
perhaps  because  in  Scotland  the  whaup  with  his  long 
crooked  neb  is  regarded  as  in  some  ways  '  sib  to  the  deil.' 

When  Silver  Sand  made  his  signal  there  was  an  instant 
boiling  up  of  the  seabirds  that  come  inland  to  nest  along 
the  little  creeks  and  islands  of  the  loch.  The  moorbirds 
also  sprang  aloft  with  clamorous  cries,  angry  at  being  dis- 
turbed, and  lo !  I  saw  a  watcher  stand  up — ragged  and 
tattered  as  a  scarecrow,  indeed,  but  well-armed  with  gun 
and  pistol,  and  (I  doubt  not,  though  I  could  not  see  it) 
with  a  jocktelog  snugly  ensconsed  at  his  hip. 

"  But,"  I  urged,  not  willing  to  lose  my  life  upon  a 
quibble  or  for  the  lack  of  asking,  "  if  you  have  this  power 
to  whistle  him  up  from  the  wide  heather,  why  cannot  you 
also  send  them  away  for  an  hour  or  two,  so  that  my  father's 
son  might  escape?  Surely  he  would  obey  you  in  this,  if 
they  obeyed  you  in  the  other !" 

Silver  Sand  smiled  grimly. 

"  Well,  we  shall  see !"  he  said,  between  his  teeth.  And 
we  marched  together  to  the  outlying  caverns,  one  of  which 
was  now  to  be  my  residence  in  place  of  the  snug  Shieling, 
sheltered  from  every  wind  and  perfumed  like  a  hol}^  place 
by  the  rich  sweet  presence  of  Joyce  Faa,  whose  very  com- 
monest household  duties  carried  distinction  with  them,  as 
of  a  princess  condescending  to  hew  wood  and  to  draw 
water. 

Grice  Baillie  lounged  by  the  door  of  the  rude  abode 
which  I  was  to  share  with  him. 

"  Grice,"  said  Silver  Sand,  "  will  you  take  a  score  of 
honest  lads  and  go  down  to  the  Lodge  of  Trostan  this 
nicht  to  bring  hame  a  fat  wether  or  twa  for  the  larder? 
We  have  need  of  such." 

"  A'  wull  not,"  said  Grice,  without  raising  his  head 
from  the  scrap  of  harness  he  was  repairing. 

125 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

"  And,  pray,  why  ?    Am  I  not  the  chief  of  your  clan  ?" 

*'  Ay,  maybe,  ye  are  a  great  man,  John  Faa,  an'  ye  may 
hae  great  poo'er  gi'en  ye,  but  Hector  Faa  wad  certainly 
kill  me  gin  I  war  to  gang  a  fit  frae  the  Shiel  o'  the  Dun- 
geon withoot  his  orders !" 

"  But  I  come  here  by  Hector  Faa's  instructions.  You 
must  obey  me  V  said  Silver  Sand. 

"  Let  us  see  hand-o'-write  on't,  then !  A'  canna  reed, 
maybe,  but  Orr  McCaterick  can,  him  that  was  yince  a 
dominie  to  the  Yerl  o'  Eglintoun,  and  wad  be  hangit  even 
yet  if  his  lordship  could  catch  him,  a'  ower  the  bit  maitter 
o'  his  lordship's  madam  that  he  keepit  aboot  the  castle." 

"  Then  you  will  not  obey  me,  Grice  ?" 

"  No,  that  a'  wull  not !" 

"  And  will  any  of  the  others,  think  you  ?" 

"  Na,  no  a  man  o'  them ;  they  hae  mair  respeck  for  their 
necks.  And  maybes  a  scummer  o'  gaun  to  hell  afore  their 
time,  and  o'  gettin'  a  scowder  frae  the  deil's  fire-irons 
afore  it  comes  to  them  in  the  coorse  o'  natur' !" 

Silver  Sand  turned  to  me  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  and 
a  hoist  of  the  shoulder  that  were  never,  I  am  sure,  learned 
within  fifty  mile  of  the  cross  of  Dumfries.  He  did  not 
need  to  speak.  I  understood  that  he  had  done  what 
he  could,  and  that  I  must  look  for  safety  elsewhere  than 
in  his  protection,  so  long  as  I  remained  in  the  cavern- 
prisons  of  Hector  Faa  among  the  rocks  of  the  Dungeon  o' 
Buchan. 

Nevertheless,  the  knowledge  strengthened,  and  in  a 
manner  saved  me.  Since  even  the  ancient  ally  of  our  house 
had  deserted  me,  I  stifl^ened  my  lip  and  resolved  to  take 
without  murmuring  whatever  might  be  l)cfore  me. 

So  I  bade  Silver  Sand  good-bye  with  an  assured  counte- 
nance, being  resolved  that,  if  he  had  thought  badly  of  mc 
in  the  matter  of  Joyce  (where  I  had  acted  according  to  my 
conscience),  at  least  he  should  have  nothing  unworthy  to 
report  as  to  my  bearing  under  the  threat  of  death, 

1?G 


THE     STABLE-CAVERNS 

Yet  the  one  came  far  easier  to  me  than  the  other.  And 
this  is  the  strange  thing,  that  I  have  often  been  admired  for 
a  courage  which  cost  me  nothing — a  certain  frosty  indif- 
ference as  to  what  might  happen — whereas  I  was  despised 
for  doing  that  which  cost  me  more  to  do  than  all  the  other 
acts  of  my  life.  I  loved  Joyce  Faa,  or,  at  least,  I  felt 
towards  her  as  I  had  never  done  to  any  woman.  But  I 
would  not- marry  her  on  compulsion,  nor  be  driven  to  the 
bride-bed  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  Yet,  by  doing  as  I 
did,  I  had  earned  the  contempt  of  a  sane,  knowledgeable 
man  like  Silver  Sand,  and,  as  I  venture  to  compute,  of 
nine-tenths  of  the  men  and  women  who  read  this  over- 
true  chronicle. 

Yet  a  woman — any  woman  might  have  done  as  I  did 
and  never  been  blamed.  Nay,  more,  she  would  have  been 
applauded  for  a  proper  pride.  She  but  used  the  weapons 
and  privilege  of  her  sex. 

Has  a  man,  then,  no  privileges  of  sex?  Can  I,  Maxwell 
Heron,  be  blamed  that  in  some  points  I  am  nearer  to  the 
nature  of  the  woman  than  the  man  ?  Ah,  well !  if  it  be  so, 
I  cannot  help  it.  And  here  I  shrug  my  shoulders  as  like 
to  Silver  Sand  as  I  can. 

Yet  I  do  my  complaining  now,  long  years  after;  I  did 
not  do  it  then,  which  is  perhaps  the  best  thing  that  can 
be  said  for  me.  Nevertheless,  I  put  it  on  record  that 
what  was  chiefly  the  matter  with  me  in  my  youth  amount- 
ed to  just  this,  that  in  opposition  to  the  almost  universally 
approved  custom,  T  declined  to  let  my  desires  take  the  reins 
out  of  the  hands  of  my  reason — an  unpopular  attitude  in 
a  young  man,  yet  one  not  necessarily  criminal. 

(Except,  that  is,  in  delaying  the  story  while  at  intervals 
I  pause  to  expound  it.) 

That  night  I  realized  acutely  the  difference  in  my  posi- 
tion as  I  shared  Grice  Baillie's  uneasy  couch  in  the  second 
cave  to  the  left,  a  hundred  yards  or  so  east  from  the 
Shieling. 

127 


THE    DAEK     0'    THE     MOON 

"  Haud  up  your  fut !"  said  Grice,  who  came  from  the 
]\Iull  of  Cantyre,  to  which  the  southwest  wind  has  blown 
over  from  Ireland  more  than  a  whiff  of  the  prevailing 
accent. 

Because  there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done  I  held  up  my 
foot,  and  the  great  brute  shackled  my  ankle  with  a  rude 
circle  of  metal  with  overlapping  ends,  which,  being  work- 
ed inward  with  a  key,  could  be  made  to  compress  the  leg, 
and,  if  necessary,  to  crush  the  very  bone. 

I  explained  to  him  that  this  was  not  necessary,  because 
I  had  had  abundant  opportunities  of  escape  if  escape  had 
been  in  my  thought.    But  my  explanation  availed  nothing. 

"  Aweel,  that  may  be,'*'  said  Grice,  sullenly,  going  on 
with  his  task,  "  but,  you  see,  it  wasna  me  that  had  the 
keepin  o'  ye  then.    It's  me  that  will  be  keepin  ye  noo !" 

I  made  the  plea  of  pity.  How  could  I  sleep  with  an 
encumbrance  like  that  on  my  leg? 

"  Juist  the  way  that  a'  wuU  sleep  mysel' !"  said  Grice, 
stolidly,  proceeding  to  affix  the  corresponding  shackle  to 
his  own  ankle,  the  two  being  connected  by  a  stout  chain. 

"  Juist  you  watch  me !"  he  said.  And  without  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation  he  threw  himself  on  his  back  on  a  heap 
of  heather  and  was  asleep  and  snoring  in  five  minutes. 

And  though  I  appreciated  fully  the  humor  of  Grice's 
suggestion,  I  found  considerable  difficulty  in  complying 
with  it.  The  cavern  had,  recently  as  Avell  as  anciently, 
been  used  as  a  stable,  and  numerous  tokens  of  such  occu- 
pancy remained.  A  stinging  odor  of  animal  ammonia 
seemed  slowly  to  pervade  my  system,  until,  as  it  seemed  to 
me,  my  very  immortal  soul  stank  within  me.  Not  till  I 
had  slept  a  night  in  a  Spanish  "  parador,"  where  mule- 
teers congregate,  did  I  encounter  the  like,  and  even  that 
was  the  mere  refined  essence  of  a  suggestion  compared  to 
the  claimant  iniquities  of  the  stable-chamber  of  Grice 
Baillie  and  his  brother-outlaws. 

That  endless  night  I  had  ample  time  to  bethink  myself, 
128 


THE     STABLE-CAVERNS 

and  I  thought  many  thoughts.  Never  had  Joyce  herself 
seemed  so  dainty  or  so  adorable,  the  sense  of  her  presence 
so  full  of  desire  and  the  graciousness  of  life,  as  during 
the  hours  when  I  was  chained  to  that  foul,  hulking  hound 
in  the  stable  of  the  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon.  I  had  time 
enough  to  repent,  and  a  score  of  times  during  that  night 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  send  for  Joyce,  if  they  would  let 
her  come  to  me.  I  would  tell  her  how  truly  I  loved  her, 
and  how  I  asked  nothing  better  than  to  spend  my  life 
with  her — in  fact,  that  I  could  not  live  without  her. 

But  ever  as  I  thought,  it  would  come  over  me  anon  that 
in  another  sense  it  was  true  that  I  could  not  live  without 
her.  She  was  my  alternative  to  the  Murder  Hole  of  Loch 
Neldrichen.  I  must  marry  her — or  die!  And  at  that 
point  I  stopped.  No,  I  would  show  them.  I  would  not  do 
that  which  I  most  desired,  at  the  word  of  command  from 
any  bog-trotting  desperado  that  ever  drove  stolen  cattle 
and  poached  other  men's  mutton. 

So  the  night  ended  where  it  had  began. 

I  rose  unrefreshed  from  the  dirty  bundles  of  heather, 
wherein  dwelt  a  restless  army  of  insects  of  every  sort  that 
preys  upon  the  skin  of  man.  I  was  in  agony;  but  Grice 
and  his  comrades  manifested  no  impatience,  or  at  the  most 
composedly  did  their  scratchings  in  their  sleep,  as  it  were, 
merely  shifting  pasture. 

Yet  this  was  with  me  an  argument  more  compelling  to 
make  me  come  to  terms  than  all  appeals  to  decalogues  and 
codes  of  honor.  For,  as  is  the  case  with  women,  my  little 
fears  and  privations  are  far  more  compelling  than  my 
great  ones. 

I  am  not  personally  afraid  of  mice,  but  I  can  quite 
understand  and  appreciate  the  feelings  of  those  who  are. 
Yet  these  same  women  can  look  forward  to  a  life  of  child- 
bearing  with  happy  and  even  expectant  hearts.  "We  are 
strange  creatures,  both  men  and  women  of  us,  and  there  are 
few  things  for  which  we  can  afford  to  laugh  at  each  other. 
9  129 


THE    DARK    0'     THE     MOON 

I  had  a  sore  and  uncouth  life  of  it  all  the  time  that  I 
was  in  Grice  Baillie's  keeping — that  is,  for  nearly  a  fort- 
night, or,  as  it  seemed,  a  hatful  of  eternities.  Joyce  I  did 
not  see  at  all.  I  do  not  think  she  ever  came  within  the 
range  of  my  vision  during  the  weary  days  I  abode  in  the 
stable  of  the  Shieling  of  the  Dungeon. 

Our  meals  were  brought  out  to  us,  generally  by  Orr 
McCaterick,  whose  conversation — for  at  one  time  he  had 
been  a  learned  man  (almost  a  clerk,  indeed) — was  the  one 
redeeming  feature  of  my  life.  He  and  I  talked  of  many 
things,  especially,  it  is  curious  to  remember,  of  the  charac- 
ters of  the  kings  and  queens  of  England  and  Scotland — 
Orr,  the  disgraced  dominie,  being  all  for  severity  and 
sternness,  especially  towards  the  women  of  them. 

"  Eh,  but  she  was  a  besom,  if  a'  tales  be  true !"  would 
be  his  summing  up  of  many  a  long  tale  told  out  of  the 
Latin  of  Buchanan  or  from  Froissart's  "  Chronicles,"  the 
former  being  Orr's  specialty  and  the  latter  mine. 

Once  old  Meggat  came  forth  to  spy  out  the  land,  as  I 
think,  but  nominally  to  bring  me  a  better  dinner  than 
usual,  in  which,  with  a  curious  irritated  feeling  of  ill- 
usage,  I  recognized  Joyce's  hand. 

"  Ye  hae  dootless  benefited  by  your  change  o'  residence, 
Laird  o'  Rathan !"  said  Meggat,  grimly  rejoicing  in  the 
change  in  my  appearance.  "  Them  that  willna  stammock 
wheaten  broad,  will  come  to  want  sowens !" 

With  this  proverb  she  left  us,  and  without  a  remark 
the  dominie  Orr  turned  again  to  the  character  of  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots. 

"  Eh,  but  she  was  a  besom,  and  yince — what  is  warst  o' 
a' — I  saw  her  picture,  when  I  was  in  Enbra'  wi'  my  Lord 
Eglintoun,  and,  d'ye  ken,  man,  she  wasna  sae  bonny  as 
she  has  been  crackit  up  to  be.  Eh,  that  was  a  sair  dis- 
appointment to  mo,  for  T  was  a  gye  het-livered  younker 
at  that  time  and  keen  on  the  weemen-folk." 

Grice  Baillie  had  been  sitting  meantime  whittling  a 
130 


THE     STABLE-CAVERNS 

hasp  for  a  gate-post,  and,  as  we  thought,  scarcely  listen- 
ing to  our  talk.  "But  at  this  point  he  raised  his  eyes — 
red,  heavy,  sullen  eyes,  jowled  beneath  with  a  dogged  sur- 
liness. He  looked  at  the  dominie  with  a  kind  of  master- 
ful and  saturnine  humor  that  had  nevertheless  something 
lowering  and  threatening  in  it. 

"  Ah,  Orr  McCaterick,  you  are  the  man  that's  a  Judge 
o'  besoms !  But  gin  ye  say  anither  word  again'  Mary,  that 
bonny  quean,  I'll  gie  ye  a  jag  that  will  gar  ye  wuss  that 
the  Yerl  o'  Eglintoun  had  gotten  ye,  the  time  ye  ran  frae 
the  castle  yett  in  your  sark  tails !" 

It  came  as  quick  as  Uck-tach,  the  two  men  sitting 
opposite  to  each  other  on  a  heap  of  straw.  I  saw  Orr 
McCaterick  smite  Grice  fair  between  the  eyes,  and  even 
as  knuckles  thudded  on  frontal  bone  the  whittle  in  Grice's 
hands  was  sheathed  in  the  dominie's  ribs. 

It  was  among  such  men  that  I  had  now  perforce  to  prac- 
tise what  of  manhood  had  come  to  me  by  ordinary  genera- 
tion, or  as  I  had  acquired  on  my  daily  pilgrimage. 


XX 

JOYCE    LOVES   ME 

MOEE  dismally  even  than  usual  loomed  up  the  interior 
of  the  stable  bedchamber  which  I  shared  with  Grice, 
my  gaoler,  the  wounded  dominie,  and  an  innumerable  com- 
pany of  other  animals.  The  wet,  reeking  straw,  the  sodden 
bundles  of  heather,  the  walls  running  with  brown  moss- 
water,  the  dripping,  sooty  thatch,  seemed  deader  and  dis- 
maller  and  more  hopeless  than  ever  before. 

To  lie  and  listen  to  Orr  McCaterick's  groaning  was  all 
my  distraction,  and  as  a  steady  amusement  it  could  not  be 
termed  of  a  cheerful  sort. 

*'  And  am  I  come  to  this,  me  that  was  brocht  up  a  col- 
leger at  St.  Anders,  that  auncient  seat  o'  lear — me  that 
has  set  copy-heads  to  mony  a  great  man,  me  that  bonny 
women  and  grand  women  hae  favored — whilk  hap  was 
my  undoing.  I  wonder  if  Yon  Yin  minds  the  day  amang 
the  booers  o'  Castle  Eglintoun — and  the  Ode  to  Chloe 
that  I  wraite  to  her  (she  didna  read  honest  John  Donne — 
na,  na,  or  she  wad  hae  faud  it  there!).  And  noo  I  hae 
corned  to  this  o't — that  a  dumb  dog  that  canna  bark  in 
any  articulate  speech  may  stap  his  knife  in  me,  that  kens 
twa  dead  languages,  and  never  be  checkit  for't!  But  I 
mind  the  words  o'  the  poet  that  wrote  : 

*  Chloe,  the  aureate  tresses  of  thy  hair — ' 

I  forget  how  it  gaed  after  that.     But  she  approved — and 
Heaven  forgie  me,  she  was  fell  bonny — as  bonny  as  I  was 

132 


JOYCE    LOVES    ME 

young.  But  his  lordship  cam'  at  us  unawares — and — 
what's  that  I  hear?  No  Hector  Faa's  fit?  Lord,  if  it  be, 
help  puir  Orr !  For  he's  as  guid  as  deid,  and  kens  it. 
'  Dinna  fecht  at  your  posts !'  says  Hector,  '  or  there  will 
be  some  fechtin'  when  I  come  back,  to  speak  aboot !'  Noo 
he  will  come  back  an'  find  me  here.  Waes  me  for  puir 
auld  Orr.  that  yince  was  the  belovit  o'  weemen  an'  wraite 
poetry !" 

The  door  of  the  miserable  hovel,  which  had  been  ajar 
so  that  one  could  see  the  continuous  slanting  of  the  rain, 
was  rudely  driven  wide,  and  Hector  Faa  stood  before  us. 
There  was  a  deep  frown  on  his  face. 

"  First  I  will  attend  to  your  case,  friend  Orr,"  he  said; 
"  Grice  Baillie  will  no  stab  a  man  for  some  time  to  come. 
You  were  brawling,  I  hear — and  after  what  I  said  to  ye  ?" 

"  Nay,  by  my  faith  and  honor,"  said  the  dominie,  in 
the  extremity  of  terror ;  "  Grice  struck  me  before  I  was 
aware !" 

"  There  is  a  bruise  between  Grice's  eyes  that  tells  an- 
other tale — what  have  you  to  say  to  that?" 

"  I  did  it  in  my  death  agony  after  I  was  stricken  with  a 
knife !  In  God's"  faith,  it  fell  out  so.  This  young  gentle- 
man will  bear  me  witness !" 

But,  having  no  wish  to  mix  myself  up  in  any  such 
ravelled  business,  I  held  my  tongue.  I  was  also  most  un- 
desirous  of  prejudicing  my  own  case,  when  (according  to 
the  gypsy's  word)  it  should  come  up  for  judgment  a  few 
minutes  later. 

"Well,  Master  Orr,  learned  son  of  Caterick,  I  shall 
have  a  word  with  you  presently.  There  is  a  swift  and 
easy  way  with  those  who  love  blood-letting.  I  may  need 
a  little  done  on  my  own  account  presently.  You  are  a 
learned  man,  I  hear,  Master  Orr— well,  if  it  turns  out  so, 
you  shall  be  my  leech." 

Then  Hector  Faa  addressed  me  with  that  mixture  of 
fine-gentleman  courtesv  and  bullving  bravado  which  he  is 

133 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

said  to  have  learned  from  his  first  commander,  the  famous 
Captain  Yawkins. 

"  So,  sir,"  he  said,  "  I  am  given  to  understand  that  you 
consider  the  outlaw's  daughter,  of  the  best  blood  of  an 
older  land  than  this  rotting  dunghill  of  Lowland  Scots, 
not  to  be  good  enough  or  fair  enough  for  the  son  of  the 
laird  of  Rathan  I" 

"  Then,  if  that  be  so,  sir,  you  have  been  given  to  under- 
stand that  which  is  not  true,"  I  answered  him.  "  ]\Iistress 
Joyce  Faa  is  infinitely  too  good  for  me  to  aspire  to.  She 
is  too  beautiful  and  noble.  I  honor  her  above  all  women, 
and  when  in  honor  I  can  humbly  ask  her  to  marry  me,  it 
will  be  the  happiest  day  in  my  life  if  she  accept  my  hand." 

In  those  days  I  was  the  greatest  don  at  set  speeches.  I 
think  I  gat  the  lilt  of  them  out  of  an  old  book  of  my 
father's  (with  some  poetics  in  it,  too,  very  curious  and 
rare — at  least,  I  hope  they  are  the  latter)  called  the 
"  Gentleman's  Pocket  Mirror  of  Wit  and  Eloquence." 
I  studied  it  oft,  and  learned  screeds  of  it  off  by  heart,  all 
to  please  my  mother,  who,  in  the  days  of  my  hobbledehoy- 
hood,  used  to  dress  me  as  a  page,  with  ribbons  in  bunches 
at  my  belt  and  knee — making,  as  my  father  said,  "  A  fool 
of  a  decent  enough  lad." 

But  the  speeches  out  of  "  Wit  and  Eloquence  "  (let  my 
father  scoff  at  them  as  he  will)  were  quite  to  the  taste  of 
this  Captain  of  Outlaws.  Perhaps,  in  old  days.  Captain 
Yawkins  also  had  a  copy  of  the  "  Pocket  Mirror,"  and  in- 
structed his  youthful  lieutenant. 

"  You  speak  well,"  he  said ;  "  but  I  have  my  idea,  and 
it  is  that  the  society  of  these  clowns,  and  even  of  this 
wondrous  learned  man  (who,  however,  scratches  himself 
to  the  full  as  often  as  the  others),  may  have  had  something 
to  do  with  these  handsome  sentiments." 

"  Again  you  misunderstand  my  position,"  I  said;  "  when 
in  honor  I  can  ask  Mistress  Joyce's  favor,  ask  her  I  will. 
But,  then.  Captain  Hector,  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  do 

134 


JOYCE    LOVES    ME 

that,  to  which  another  compels  me  without  choice  of  my 
own.  Besides,  the  lady  herself  hath  refused  to  have  aught 
to  do  with  me.  When  Silver  Sand  put  the  matter  to  her, 
she  denied  me  point  blank,  as,  indeed,  I  own  that  I  well 
deserved." 

"  These  are  fine  birds  indeed,  but  I  will  pook  them  of 
their  gay  feathers,"  the  gypsy  said,  quoting  another  prov- 
erb. "  I  made  you  an  offer,  and  that  by  the  mouth  of 
your  own  chosen  intermediary.  You  refused.  Two  alter- 
natives were  placed  before  you.  Still  your  answer  was  the 
same.  With  what  my  daughter  may  have  said,  or  her 
reasons  for  saying  it — I  have  nothing  to  do.  With  my  offer 
and  your  response  I  am  prepared  to  deal." 

He  turned  about  to  the  wounded  dominie,  who  lay  with 
dropped  jaw,  interested  as  to  my  case,  yet  doubtless  in  pain- 
ful doubt  as  to  his  own  fate. 

"  Learned  doctor,"  said  Hector  Faa,  with  suave  and 
dangerous  deference,  "  I  need  not  ask  whether  so  wise  and 
practical  a  man  has  a  knife  about  him  with  an  edge  upon 
which  a  man  may  rely  on  in  case  of  need  ?  I  have  forbid- 
den you  to  carry  such  except  when  on  duty,  for  you  are 
an  unruly  set,  and  apt  for  ill  deeds  among  yourselves !" 

The  dominie  at  first  denied,  but,  being  pressed,  he  rolled 
sulkily  over,  and,  groping  among  the  damp  and  reeking 
straw  of  his  bed,  he  disinterred  a  piece  of  whity-brown 
paper.  This  he  unrolled,  and  there  lay  Grice's  whittle, 
with  its  curved  edge  and  the  spring  catch,  a  ghastly  object, 
for  Orr's  own  blood  was  yet  uncleansed  from  its  blade. 

"  Ah,"  said  Hector  Faa,  "  this  will  not  do.  I  know  well 
where  you  meant  to  drive  that  the  first  time  you  caught 
Master  Grice  asleep.  But  I  have  another  purpose  for  it 
now.  I  have  not  too  many  rascals  up  here  in  these  wilds, 
and  few  of  them  are  of  the  right  tiger  blood  like  Grice.  I 
cannot  afford  to  lose  him.  Therefore,  to  make  up  the  quar- 
rel between  you,  you  shall  share  a  little  piece  of  work.  This 
young  gentleman  hath  had  his  choice  betwixt  bride-bed 

135 


THE     DAEK     0'     THE     MOOX 

and  the  bottom  of  the  Murder  Hole.  He  has  had  the  bad 
taste  to  prefer  the  latter.  So  now  you  must  see  him  hand- 
somely on  his  way. 

*■'  Now,  as  you  are  a  little  hipped  at  present,  Orr,  my 
lad,  I  should  advise  that  you  use  your  knife  as  you  meant 
to  do  upon  Grice,  when  your  prisoner  is  asleep.  And  be 
good  enough  to  make  a  clean  job  of  it.  Then  Grice,  in 
his  turn,  will  disembarrass  you  of — the  Thing  which  Ee- 
mains  !    The  Murder  Hole  will  tell  no  tales  as  to  that !" 

Hector  Faa  stood  as  easily  against  the  door-post  and 
spoke  as  smoothly  as  if  he  had  said  "  'Tmll  be  a  fine  day 
to-morrow,"  the  while  he  was  uttering  these  atrocious  senti- 
ments. But  the  dominie,  in  spite  of  his  wound,  started 
up. 

"  I  cannot — I  cannot—  God's  truth,  I  cannot  slit  a  man's 
throat  in  cold  blood !"  he  cried,  "  and  we  have  been  none 
such  bad  friends  either,  he  and  I.  I  cannot  do  it,  and  so  I 
tell  you,  Hector !" 

The  outlaw  leaned  a  little  over,  and  with  a  kind  of  sigh, 
murmured,  confidentially,  "  x\h,  well,  then.  I  suppose  I 
shall  have  to  do  it  myself — after  your  decease,  Orr !" 

'•'  You  would  not  murder  me,  Captain?" 

The  words  came  like  a  cry  of  terror.  Lame  as  he  was, 
the  poor  dominie  was  half  on  his  feet  by  this  time,  his  teeth 
clicking  together  in  sheer  terror.  "  You  would  not  murder 
a  man  who  has  worked  for  you,  and  done  your  bidding 
faithfully  for  years?" 

"  That  is  just  the  point,"  said  Hector,  with  the  same 
deadly  chill  in  his  voice.  "*  Done  my  bidding  faithfully,' 
you  say.  Well,  you  swore  to  do  it  when  you  joined  the 
band,  did  you  not — under  penalty  of  death  ?  Now,  if  you 
refuse  to  do  it,  you  cannot  complain  if  3^ou  are  called  on 
to  suffer  that  penalty.  It  is  no  more  murder  than  the 
plain  choice  offered  to  this  gentleman,  which  he  has  ac- 
cepted and  will  doubtless  stand  by  like  a  gentleman  !" 

While  he  had  been  speaking,  Hector  had  picked  up  Grice 
13G 


JOYCE    LOVES    ME 

Baillie's  knife,  wiped  it  on  an  old  rag  which  had  been  thrust 
into  a  dripping  crevice  of  the  cavern.  Then,  having  as- 
sured himself  as  to  its  point  and  edge,  he  nodded  signifi- 
cantly. 

"  Grice  keeps  good  tools,  and  also  sharp  ones — though 
his  wits,  God  knows,  he  keeps  dull  enough.  This  will 
finish  the  business  out  of  hand;  and  Grice,  who  will 
be  in  waiting  outside,  can  report  to  me  at  the  Shiel 
after  his  part  is  done.  The  women  are  not  to  know,  of 
course !"  • 

He  spoke  these  final  directions  in  a  tone  somewhat  louder 
than  before,  whether  by  intention  or  not  I  do  not  know. 
At  all  events,  scarcely  were  they  out  of  his  mouth  when  the 
rude  door  of  the  shelter,  which  had  been  partially  closed 
during  the  colloquy,  was  burst  open,  and  Joyce  Faa  enter- 
ed, her  black  hair  dishevelled  and  falling  in  great  raven 
coils  about  her  face  and  over  her  neck.  She  seemed  quite 
unconscious  of  anything  but  the  horror  of  the  words  she 
had  overheard. 

"  Oh,  my  father,'"'  she  cried,  dropping  on  her  knees  and 
holding  him  by  the  skirts  of  his  long  sea-captain's  coat  of 
blue;  "father,  you  do  not  mean  this!  You  have  always 
been  good  and  kind  to  me.  That  you  have  slain  men,  I 
know:  but  it  has  always  been  in  fair  fight.  Surely  you 
will  not  shed  this  young  lad's  blood  as  he  lies  bound  and 
helpless  in  your  power!  That  were  too  cruel,  cowardly, 
murderous — " 

Hector  Faa  pushed  her  away,  but  even  on  her  knees  she 
moved  a  little  nearer,  and  would  not  let  him  go. 

"  Father,  you  must  hear  me — you  must  listen,"  she 
sobbed.  I  had  not  believed  that  tears  could  come  at  all 
into  the  proud,  splendid  eyes  of  Joyce  Faa.  Meantime,  I 
lay  there  wonderfully  composed,  with  manacles  upon  my 
feet  and  my  M-rists  tied  with  rope  so  tight  that  the  fingers 
swelled,  just  as  that  great  nowt  Grice  had  left  me.  But, 
believe  it  who  will,  this  part  of  my  trial  was  easy,  or,  at 

137 


THE    DAKK    0'    THE     MOON 

least,  nothing  to  many  things  that  had  gone  before — or  that 
followed  after. 

Indeed,  a  little  proud  pulse  beat  somewhere  within  me 
near  my  heart,  but  more  towards  the  bottom  of  the  throat. 
I  have  felt  it  a  time  or  two  in  my  life,  and  always  when 
I  have  thought  that  I  was  behaving  well. 

Hector  Faa  took  his  daughter  by  the  shoulders,  and 
lifted  her  up  with  a  kind  of  sternness,  at  once  scornful  and 
bitter. 

"  Joyce,"  he  said,  "  I  thought  you  had  more  pride  than 
thus  to  humble  yourself  to  seek  the  life  of  the  man  who 
has  despised  you — *' 

"  I  do  not,"  I  cried,  "  and  I  never  did.  Before  God,  I 
love  and  honor — " 

But  my  words  could  no  more  turn  this  man  from  his 
intent  than  the  cheeping  of  a  mouse  in  the  corn-mow  is 
able  to  prevent  its  overthrow  when  the  threshers  stand 
waiting  on  the  earthen  floor. 

"  Listen,  Joyce,"  he  said ;  "  from  this  man's  father  I 
and  mine  suffered  the  greatest  wrongs  man  can  lay  upon 
man — expatriation,  pursuit,  death.  By  his  mother  was 
put  upon  me  the  greatest  of  slights.  Now  their  son,  their 
only  son,  is  in  my  hands.  I  am  an  outlaw,  and  every  man's 
hand  is  against  me.  Yet  I  not  only  spare  him,  but  I  offer 
him  my  daughter  in  marriage  to  heal  the  ancient  breach. 
I  ask  him  to  make  choice  between  that  and  death.  And 
he  chose  death !  Is  this  the  man  for  whom  you  plead, 
Joyce  Faa?  Let  me  tell  you  that  the  true  child  of  the 
gypsy  would  rejoice  in  the  death  of  her  house's  enemy,  the 
righteous  condemnation  of  the  man  who  scorned  and 
slighted  her !" 

At  the  words  that  I  had  chosen  death  rather  than  her  I 
saw  Joyce  wince,  as  she  leaned  with  one  hand  on  the  lid 
of  the  corn-chost  which  stood  in  the  angle  of  the  cave. 

But  she  rallied  bravely,  like  one  resolved  at  all  costs  to 
carry  through  the  thing  that  was  in  her  heart. 

138 


JOYCE   LOVES    ME 

"  Indeed  I  do  plead/'  she  said.  "  I  would  go  down  on  my 
knees  to  beg  him  to  marry  me  rather  than  that  he  should 
die  upon  a  mere  point  of  honor.  I  would  not  have  him 
die,  even  if  he  does  not  love  me.  There  are  times  for  a 
woman  to  cherish  pride,  but  not  now." 

She  turned  to  me  where  I  lay  helpless  on  the  heap  of 
filth  which  had  been  my  bed. 

"  Maxwell,"  she  said,  clasping  her  hands,  "  you  will  not 
still  hold  out?  You  will  promise  to  marry  me  and  not 
die?  God  help  me,  I  never  thought  thus  to  speak  to  any 
man.  But  I  do  not  care.  Why  should  I  care — what  is 
pride  to  a  gypsy  maid?  But  do  not  be  afraid  that  I  will 
hinder  you  on  your  way  through  the  world.  I  will  go  away 
afterwards,  and  you  will  never  be  troubled  more  with 
Joyce  Faa !" 

Then,  even  as  she  spoke,  there  came  for  the  first  time 
the  rushing  of  a  mighty  love  into  my  heart.  My  soul 
swelled  within  me,  and  the  tears  stood  large  in  my  eyes. 

"  I  love  you,  Joyce,"  I  cried,  looking  at  her  through  a 
blur  of  salt  water ;  "  God  knows,  I  am  not  worthy  to  love 
you — not  worthy  to  wed  you — not  worthy  to  touch  the  hem 
of  your  garment.  But  if  you  will  take  me,  you  shall  have 
all  the  love  of  a  man's  heart  therewith  !" 

And  in  a  moment,  with  a  sweet,  sharp  cry  of  thankful- 
ness, Joyce  Faa  was  upon  her  knees  before  me,  trying  with 
her  trembling  hand  to  unfasten  my  bonds,  and  the  hot 
tears  splashing  down  upon  my  face,  broad  and  solitary  as 
the  first  droppings  of  a  thunder-shower. 

"  Bless  you — bless  you  !"  she  whispered ;  "  say  these 
things  over  again  to  my  father,  and  he  will  believe  you. 
Be  not  afraid  to  speak.    I  will  not  hereafter  trouble  you !" 

And  this  saying  of  hers  I  could  not  fathom  at  the  time, 
but  set  it  down  to  perturbation  of  spirit. 

And  when  for  a  moment  I  hesitated,  for  such  things 
once  spoken  are  difficult  to  repeat — "Say  it!  Say  it! 
Let  my  father  hear  it !"  she  murmured  in  my  ear. 

139 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOO^T 

So  I  took  heart  of  grace,  and  addressed  Hector  Faa 
directly  as  he  stood  looking  silently  and  grimly  down. 

"  If  this  maid,  whom  with  all  my  heart  I  love  and  honor, 
will  consent  to  marry  me,  I  offer  her  all  the  love  of  a  man's 
heart,  and  all  I  have  in  this  world  of  goods  and  gear." 

"  Thank  you — thank  you — that  is  well  said.  My  father 
is  turning — I  know  his  ways.  He  wishes  to  be  convinced 
to  save  you.    But  he  is  set  on  this !" 

And  the  girl  who  had  seemed  so  proud,  dropped  her 
head  upon  my  hands,  and  because  she  could  not  untie  the 
fastenings  quickly,  she  bit  at  the  cords  with  her  teeth. 

Seeing  which,  with  a  quick-fading,  bitter  smile.  Hector 
Faa  lifted  the  knife  of  Grice  Baillie,  which  had  been 
destined  to  cut  my  throat,  and  slit  my  bonds  with  it  in- 
stead. The  leg-irons  he  slipped  off  with  the  assistance 
of  the  dominie,  who  smiled,  well  pleased  to  be  rid  of  a  job 
he  had  no  pleasure  in — and  then  the  next  moment  his 
mouth  was  twisted  awry  with  the  pain  of  his  own  wound. 


XXI 

I    LOVE    JOYCE 

OUT  of  the  miickly  litter  I  rose  somewhat  uncertainly 
to  my  feet,  with  a  glad  heart,  yet  feeling  (as  to  the 
corporeal  part  of  me)  the  meanest,  dirtiest,  most  down- 
trodden piece  of  stable  refuse  that  ever  insulted  the  whole- 
some eye  of  day. 

Hector  Faa  said  no  more  at  that  time,  but,  with  a  return 
of  his  old  sardonic  smile,  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  left 
the  stable.  Joyce  and  I  followed  him  more  slowly,  the 
eyes  of  the  wounded  dominie  enviously  upon  us. 

As  we  crossed  the  space  which  separated  the  stable- 
caverns  from  the  well-kept  Shieling  of  the  Dungeon  I  said 
to  Joyce,  pressing  her  arm,  "  Dearest,  you  have  saved  my 
life !    I  thank  you,  and  love  you  with  all  my  heart !" 

Judge  of  my  astonishment  when  she  quietly  disengaged 
her  arm  and  answered,  "There  is  no  need  of  that  now; 
m}^  father  is  out  of  hearing !" 

'•'  But  I  do  truly  love  you,  Joyce !"  I  said,  speaking  the 
thing  that  was  in  my  heart. 

She  opened  her  eyes  upon  me,  as  if  with  a  single,  hope- 
ful, searching  glance,  but  immediately  smiled  again  with  a 
fixed  bitterness  which  recalled  her  father. 

"  You  do  not  need  to  keep  up  appearances  with  me !" 
she  said.  "It  is  not  necessary,  and  I  do  not  expect  it 
from  you." 

"  But  I  Jove  you,  Joyce!" 

She  looked  at  me  with  that  single-eyed  glance,  so  sweet, 
141 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

so  lingering,  jet  for  no  reason  known  to  me,  all  so  soon 
melting  away  into  that  same  bitterness  of  soul.  Then, 
nodding  slightly,  as  if  taking  the  statement  for  what  it  was 
worth  (and  finding  the  value  a  slight  one),  she  moved 
quietly  away  towards  the  house. 

A  thorough  cleansing  of  my  person  in  an  alcove  arranged 
by  Meggat,  the  donning  of  a  good  suit  of  clothes  never 
made  or  meant  for  Hector  Faa  (which,  however,  fitted  me 
very  well),  and  Maxwell  Heron  was  a  new  man  again. 
Also,  but  for  Joyce's  inexplicable  behavior,  I  should  have 
been  a  happy  one. 

Hector  came  to  see  me  an  hour  after  as  I  sat  in  my  old 
seat  and  new  array,  looking  out  of  the  window  of  the 
Shieling,  Meggat  and  Joyce  meanwhile  moving  silently 
about  at  their  household  tasks. 

"  So,"  he  said,  leaning  against  the  door-post,  without 
sitting  down,  "  you  are  again  arrayed  according  to  your 
quality — or,  if  I  remember  the  circumstances  aright,  a 
little  above  it.  Well,  son-in-law,  we  have  a  work  to  do,  and 
it  behoves  that  it  is  well  done.  For  me,  I  should  have 
been  content,  like  our  forefathers,  with  the  gypsy  wedding, 
without  priest  or  minister.  But  our  far-travelled  Joyce 
here,  has  other  ideas.  So  I  have  sent  to  arrange  with  the 
Minister  of  Minnigaff,  who  sits,  as  it  were,  under  my  hand, 
and  will  not  deny  me  the  favor  I  have  asked — that  he 
marry  you  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  Scottish  kirk 
on  the  third  day  from  now.  I  have  granted  this  delay  to 
please  my  daughter;  but  remember,  young  man,  if  you 
play  with  Hector  Faa,  you  play  with  death !" 

Joyce  turned  a  swift  look  upon  me,  half  over  her 
shoulder.    I  thought  she  smiled. 

"  You  need  fear  nothing  from  me,"  I  said.  "  I  shall 
only  be  the  happier  man  every  instant  that  the  event  is 
hastened." 

"  I  had  not  thought  it  of  Grice  and  Orr,"  said  Hector. 
"  Let  no  man  after  this  judge  of  the  talents  of  another. 

*  142 


I    LOVE    JOYCE 

What  the  fear  of  death  and  the  proffer  of  love  could  not 
do,  one  short  week  of  Grice  and  Orr  hath  most  pleasantly 
effectuated." 

And  again  over  her  shoulder  as  she  passed  I  caught  the 
glance  of  Joj^ce  Faa,  pleasantly  approving.  So,  with  little 
talk,  but  great  comfort  of  body,  ended  the  day.  Could  I 
only  have  understood  the  meaning  of  Joyce  Faa's  actions 
and  demeanor  I  should  have  been  altogether  happy.  But 
this  I  could  not  do.  So  long  as  her  father  was  near — either 
in  the  house  or  moving  about  the  doors — no  sweetheart 
could  have  been  more  loving,  no  wife  more  devoted. 

She  would  lay  her  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  appear  to 
read  from  the  same  book.  She  permitted  me  freely  to  take 
her  hand,  a  thing  she  had  never  done  since  the  kiss  at  the 
rocky  corner — that  for  which  I  paid  so  dearly. 

But  no  sooner  was  her  father  a  hundred  yards  down  the 
path  than,  with  the  quietest  determination  in  the  world, 
she  would  disengage  herself,  and  draw  off,  either  to  her 
own  chamber,  or,  if  she  remained  at  all,  it  was  to  intrench 
herself  behind  Meggat  and  sit  silent  and  distrait  over  her 
sewing. 

Never  had  I  dreamed  of  being  so  treated,  and  when  I 
bethought  me  that  in  the  latter  parts  of  the  business  I  had 
behaved  not  that  ill  (and  I  think  so  even  to  this  day)  to 
be  slighted  and  scorned — and  to  have  my  devotion,  as  it 
were,  thrown  in  my  teeth — why,  it  was  hard,  indeed,  for 
a  young  man  to  bear. 

But  there  was  more,  and  worse,  yet  before  me. 

I  strove  all  the  afternoon  to  get  a  word  with  her  alone. 
But  I  doubt  not  that  she  had  forewarned  Meggat — so  that, 
do  what  I  would,  at  kitchen-ingle  or  bakeboard,  peat-stack 
or  rock-larder,  where  one  was,  the  other  was,  and  my  desire 
was  continually  balked.  Did  I  see  her  lifting  a  wooden 
pail,  three  parts  empty,  from  the  corner  behind  the  door 
where  the  well-water  was  placed  to  keep  cool,  I  started  to 
my  feet.     Formerly  we  would  have  gone  off  pleasantly 

143 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOO^ 

together,  a  pail  in  either  hand,  and  a  "  gird  "  or  hoop  to 
hang  it  outside,  in  order  to  keep  the  brimming  water  free 
from  spilling  as  we  brought  them  back.  But  now,  when  in 
a  few  hours  we  were  to  be  all  in  all  to  each  other,  I  was 
coldly  permitted  to  go  alone,  and  to  bring  back  the  pails 
gloomy  and  sick  at  heart. 

I  could  not  imagine  that  this  was  the  maiden  who  had 
offered  to  throw  herself  at  my  feet,  beseeching  me  to  marry 
her,  rather  than  that  I  should  die  by  her  father's  edict. 

But  at  the  eleventh  hour,  as  it  were,  she  did  speak  to 
me,  though  her  communication  was  one  that  mystified  me 
more  than  ever. 

"  Do  not  take  off  your  clothes  to-night,"  she  said,  softly, 
in  my  ear,  "  and  be  ready  for  a  Journey !" 

She  was  looking  over  my  shoulder  at  the  time  as  she 
spoke,  as  T  sat  by  the  fire.  Meggat  had  gone  out,  and 
Hector  Faa  stood  in  the  door-way  looking  down  the 
glen,  his  broad  shoulders  filling  the  aperture  from  side  to 
side. 

I  caught  the  girl's  hand. 

"  If  I  have  seemed  not  to  love  you  hitherto,"  I  began, 
"  it  has  only  been  that  I  dared  not — " 

"  Remember  what  I  say,"  she  interrupted,  paying  no 
heed  to  my  words,  "  do  not  take  off  your  clothes,  and  be 
ready  when  I  call  you !" 

Then,  with  a  quick  disengaging  of  her  waist  and  an 
avoidance  of  my  detaining  hand,  she  was  gone.  Yet  I  will 
take  my  Bible  oath  that  as  she  went,  this  bewildering  girl 
actually  turned  and,  in  full  sight  of  her  father,  blew  me 
an  audacious  kiss  from  her  finger-tips,  a  gesture  she  must 
have  learned  among  the  nuns  or  other  light  people  in 
France,  for  I  never  saw  the  like  in  this  country-side.  Yet, 
withal,  it  was  monstrously  pretty  to  see. 

Nevertheless,  the  dull  hours  lagged  even  more  tardy- 
foot.  For  who  could  bo  cheerful  with  Hector  Faa  Avander- 
ing  here  and  there  like  a  detached  thunder-cloud,  and 

144 


I    LOVE    JOYCE 

Joyce  behaving  like  the  very  Sphinx  of  Egypt  in  petticoats 
and  a  red  silk  snood. 

But  after  the  stench  of  the  stable-caverns,  God  knows 
the  Shieling  was  a  pleasant  place  enough,  and  I  have  no 
fault  to  find  therewith.  But  I  am  a  man  who  loves  greatly 
to  understand  things,  and  whichever  way  I  turned  I  found 
myself  badly  bogged  in  mysteries. 

I  could  not  comprehend  why  Hector  Faa  was  so  set  on 
my  marrying  Joyce.  That  he  had  some  purpose  to  serve 
was  certain.  I  did  not  understand  why  Joyce,  who  had 
begged  my  life  with  such  fervor,  now  blew  hot  and  cold, 
and  gave  me  no  more  than,  as  it  were,  the  parings  of  her 
favor. 

But  on  the  other  hand,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I 
clearly  understood  myself.  There  was  no  doubt  about  the 
matter  any  more.  I  loved  as  other  men  love — nay,  bet- 
ter, for  my  love  was  once  and  for  all.  And  the  woman  I 
loved  was  not  Marion  of  the  Isle,  nor  any  other  but  Joyce 
Faa,  the  daughter  of  the  Outlaw  of  the  Dungeon. 

That  was  so  much  to  be  certain  of,  at  any  rate,  and  a 
gain  to  me  in  my  spirit.  But  there  was  greater  gain  on  the 
way,  and  if  bitter  waters  are  good  for  souls,  verily  mine 
ought  to  have  profited  greatly. 

Hector  retired  with  the  setting  of  the  young  moon  to 
his  own  particular  swallow's  nest.  For  ever  since  the  last 
raid  of  the  Ayrshiremen  he  had  kept  one  private  and  par- 
ticular cover  known  only  to  himself  and  perhaps  one  trust- 
ed lieutenant,  who  could  find  him  at  all  hours  to  make  re- 
ports and  to  take  orders. 

Then,  the  night  being  very  dark  and  no  light  anywhere 
without,  I  came  back  in-doors,  and  sat  idly  watching  the  red 
glow  of  the  peat  fire  on  the  hearth  as  it  fell  in  gradually 
upon  itself  and  noiselessly  took  smaller  bulk. 

I  could  see  or  hear  nothing  of  Joyce  or  Meggat.  I  did 
not  greatly  desire  to  see  the  latter,  but  in  my  father's 
memoirs,  and  in  various  books  of  the  romance  order,  I  had 
1"  145 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

read  that  there  were  pleasant  elements  connected  with  the 
nightly  leave-taking  of  persons  betrothed  in  marriage. 
Also,  for  all  Joyce's  recent  strange  behavior,  I  had  sundry 
memories,  and,  in  especial,  she  had  not  taken  my  kiss  so 
greatly  amiss  that  moonlit  night  by  the  cliff's  edge.  I  had 
a  greater  right  now,  yet  Joyce  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

So  after  waiting  for  the  better  part  of  an  hour,  till, 
indeed,  the  red  of  the  peat  ashes — the  "  grieshoch,"  as  we 
say  in  Galloway — sank  to  the  dull  red  of  cooling  iron,  and 
finally  grew  scarcely  distinguishable  from  the  darkness 
about,  I  groped  my  way  to  my  couch. 

Here  I  threw  myself  down  without  undressing  and 
waited.  It  is  difficult  to  wait  in  the  dark  with  strained 
attention  and  expectant  ear,  and  I  fancy  I  must  have 
dozed  a  little. 

For  it  seemed  only  a  moment  before  I  felt  a  hand  on 
my  arm,  and  a  voice  in  my  ear  said,  "  Hush !" 

Within  me  mv  heart  leaped,  for  I  knew  it  was  Joyce 
Faa. 

"  Rise,"  she  said.  "  You  and  I  must  escape  for  our 
lives !    I  have  all  things  ready !    Do  not  waste  a  moment !" 

I  did  not  answer,  but,  feeling  her  breath  sweet  on  my 
cheek,  I  drew  her  to  me.  For  a  moment  she  resisted,  and 
ev(m  somewhat  indignantly  tried  to  push  me  away.  Then 
all  at  once  I  heard  her  whisper,  "  Only  this  once !  I  de- 
serve it !" 

And  I  kissed  Joyce  Faa  for  the  second  time.  But,  though 
her  lips  were  sweet,  the  fire  was  quite  gone  out  of  them. 
They  were  salt  with  tears,  and  she  kissed  me  more  like  a 
mother  who  kisses  her  son  whom  she  sends  forth  to  the 
battle  from  which  he  will  never  return. 

God  help  thee,  Joyce !  That  dark  midnight  I  felt  the 
love  leap  between  us,  and  yet  even  then  I  knew  little  more 
of  the  great  spirit  of  Joyce  Faa  than  when  for  the  first 
time  I  saw  her  eyes  bend  darkly  over  me,  at  once  splendid 
and  pitiful,  the  fit  index  of  lior  heart. 

146 


XXII 

THE    NIGHT    JOURNEY 

I  SHALL  try,  and  I  know  in  vain,  to  describe  that  won- 
derful stint  of  night-travel  upon  which  we  now  entered. 
We  set  out  immediately,  leaving  the  narrow  shelf  of  the 
Dungeon  Shieling,  not  by  the  way  I  had  arrived,  along  the 
line  of  lochs,  each  deep-set  in  its  own  rock-basin,  but  by  a 
track  which  led  away  to  the  east,  a  way  narrow  and  diffi- 
cult. Joyce  it  was  who  took  my  hand,  and  at  the  first  I 
could  just  see  her  before  me,  a  dark  figure  blotting  out  the 
stars. 

Twice  we  heard  the  solitary  whistle  of  the  curlew,  and 
twice  it  was  answered  with  a  significant  variation — not 
by  Joyce,  as  it  appeared  to  me,  but  by  some  other  person, 
who,  though  unseen,  was  of  our  company. 

It  occurred  to  me  once  or  t^vice  that  after  all  I  was 
being  taken,  as  it  were  for  facility  of  transport,  upon  my 
own  legs  to  the  Murder  Hole.  But  instantly  I  put  that 
thought  from  me.  Joyce  was  there,  and  therefore  nothing 
but  good  was  intended  towards  me. 

Once,  however,  there  came  the  sound  of  a  verbal  chal- 
lenge, human  and  natural,  which  the  unseen  person  in  our 
rear  answered  cavalierly — indeed,  even  with  something  of 
anger  and  surprise  in  his  reply — both  challenge  and  reply 
being  still  in  the  unknown  gypsy  jargon. 

Our  route  was  swiftly  downward,  and  then,  turning  to 
the  right,  I  got  a  glimpse  of  steely  gray  waters  sleeping 
far  below,  as  if  the  very  stones  my  feet  stirred  would  drop 

147 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOOiN" 

with  a  splash  into  them.  For  the  moment  I  could  think 
of  nothing  but  our  precipitous  road,  and  of  the  necessity 
I  was  under  of  keeping  close  to  Joyce.  For  this  was  the 
first  time  I  had  made  so  long  a  journey  since  my  wound- 
ing. 

Many  times  I  tried  to  press  her  hand  and  to  draw  her 
nearer  me;  but  she  went  ever  the  faster,  murmuring  only, 
"  Hush  !    Let  be !    We  are  not  yet  out  of  danger !" 

And  I  tried  to  extract  some  comfort  from  the  "  we," 
but  the  yield  was  small  Mdien  all  was  done,  and  of  poor 
quality.  I  was  always  conscious  of  that  other,  our  leader 
and  guide,  who  now  went  on  in  front;  and  in  spite  of  all 
Joyce's  kindness  there  was  a  stand-off  feeling  in  her  touch 
Avhich  grated  upon  me.  For  I  minded  how  ditfercntly  a 
certain  May  Maxwell  had  acted  when  she  fled  in  the  dark 
down  from  these  same  mountains  with  one  of  my  race. 

But  this  at  least  was  Joyce  Faa's  way,  and  it  is  her  story 
I  am  telling. 

Sometimes,  on  the  less  steep  places,  muirl)irds  would  fly 
upward  with  a  startling  "  Brek-kek-kek,"  and  sometimes 
an  old  ram,  rushed  out  of  sound  slumber,  would  break 
away  with  the  rush  of  a  war-horse  into  the  deeper  dark,  a 
trail  of  stones  and  dirt  rattling  down  after  him.  We  heard 
the  thunder  of  the  torrent  throwing  itself  over  the  steep, 
the  white  spouting  of  the  "jaws"  (so  the  hill-folk  call 
them),  as  if  the  mountains  were  venting  their  waste  waters 
to  feed  the  thirsty  plains.  Once  an  eagle  or  some  other 
heavily  flying  bird  passed  across  us,  almost  brushing  our 
faces  with  his  pinions.  A  raven  cried  "  Glonh-glonk" 
with  a  wearying  iterance  away  to  the  left,  perhaps  en- 
couraging us  to  break  our  necks  for  his  behoof.  And  I 
noted  all  these  things  instinctively,  like  one  in  a  dream. 

What  I  really  wanted  was  to  find  out  whether  Joyce  Faa 
loved  me,  and  whither  she  was  taking  me.  Besides  these 
questions  there  was  one  other. 

Who  was  the  unseen  guide  who  had  answered  the  sen- 
148 


THE    NIGHT    JOURNEY 

tries  with  his  whistle,  guided  us  down  the  wild  mountain 
slides,  and  was  now  leading  us  across  the  trackless,  plung- 
ing morasses  hy  a  path  safe  enough  and  practicable,  if  not 
particularly  dry. 

Presently  we  passed  a  stunted  thorn-bush,  from  which 
I  learned  two  things — first,  that  we  had  reached  the  upper 
limit  of  trees,  which  meant  also  of  cultivation ;  and, 
secondly,  that  the  night  was  growing  slightly  less  dark 
than  it  had  been. 

I  could  now  see  the  dark  shape  of  Joyce  going  before, 
and,  still  more  diml}'',  the  shadow  of  our  leader  leaning 
forward,  pole  in  hand,  and  striking  this  way  and  that 
among  the  morasses  to  test  the  way.  There  seemed  some- 
thing familiar  about  the  figure,  too,  and  I  wondered  where 
I  had  seen  it  before. 

So,  hour  after  hour,  the  three  of  us  held  upon  our  way. 
A  cloud  settled  down  over  the  east  into  which  we  were 
journeying.  After  the  temporary  illumination  it  grew 
darker  again.  The  silhouettes  of  my  companions  dropped 
back  into  darkness  and  we  all  plunged  blindly  on,  now 
through  the  deep  hags  of  infinite  morasses,  anon  crossing 
by  means  of  the  leaping-pole  some  sluggish  "  lane "  or 
deep,  black  streak  of  oily  water,  in  which  I  could  dimly  see 
the  lilies  set  like  white  Jewels  when  I  could  discern  nothing 
else  in  heaven  or  on  earth,  not  even  my  own  feet. 

A  step  or  two  farther  and  I  was  breaking  my  shins 
among  an  infinite  wilderness  of  granite  blocks  and  smooth- 
weathered  stones,  slipping  upon  the  "  corklit "  moss,  and 
from  time  to  time  almost  breaking  my  ankles  in  the 
"  traps  "  betwixt  stones  which  abounded  all  over  the  dreary 
moorland.  There  was  no  slackening,  no  ceasing  all  that 
night.  We  kept  at  it  as  men  run  a  long  race — silently, 
determinedly — for  a  great  prize,  as,  indeed,  one  among 
us  was  doing. 

It  had  been  no  more  than  the  first  breaking  of  the  black- 
ness— not  dawn,  but  the  false  dawn  that  looks  out  of  the 

149 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE     MOON 

windows  of  the  east  for  a  moment  to  see  what  kind  of 
morning  it  is  and  then  forthwith  goes  back  to  bed  again. 

Presently  we  came  to  a  little  farm-steading,  or  rather 
something  as  much  smaller  than  that  as  my  lady's  spaniel 
is  less  than  my  lord's  hound.  The  group  of  square-set 
buildings  seemed  to  be  castaway,  deserted,  left  forlorn  and 
derelict  amid  that  world  of  heather.  And  3'et  it  was  evi- 
dent that  folk  lived  there,  and  folk,  moreover,  not  ill-pro- 
vided with  the  necessities  of  life.  Within  some  stables 
close  at  hand  we  could  hear  the  sound  of  horses  shifting 
their  iron-shod  hoofs  in  the  butt-end  of  the  dwelling- 
house,  and  beyond  that  again  cattle  munching  in  their 
stalls.  It  all  sounded  to  me  good  and  friendly,  and  of  the 
lowlands,  though,  indeed,  we  had  descended  upon  the 
place  out  of  the  very  heart  of  the  wilds,  and,  as  I  after- 
wards found,  the  heather  grew  right  up  to  the  door  on  all 
sides. 

The  name  of  the  place  was  Craigencailzie,  and  there  was 
a  well-marked  track  from  it  across  the  waste  to  the  great 
Irish  drove  road  which  runs  by  the  New  Town  of  Galloway 
to  Dumfries. 

Now  I  come  to  a  part  of  my  tale  which  must  be  written, 
and  yet  which  even  now  makes  a  pain  and  an  emptiness 
about  my  heart  as  I  write  it. 

The  walls  of  Craigencailzie  byre  were  whitewashed,  and 
I  could  see  Joyce  well  enough  as  she  stood  looking  stilly 
at  me.  I  was  weak  with  our  journeying,  and  had  perforce 
to  lean  against  the  rough-cast  rought  stone  and  lime,  little 
better  than  a  dry  stone  dyke.  Our  companion,  whoever 
he  might  be,  had  gone  oft'  to  rouse  the  inmates,  or  at  least 
to  have  some  private  conference  of  his  own  with  them. 
So  Joyce  and  1  were  left  alone.  For  a  while  we  did  not 
speak — I  being  exhausted,  she  watching  me  silently. 

"  Wliither  do  we  go  from  here?"  I  said  at  last. 

"  You  take  horse,  and  ride  as  soon  as  may  be,  south  into 
your  own  country." 

150 


THE    NIGHT    JOURNEY 

"  And  you,  dearest  Joyce  ?" 

She  moved  impatiently  at  the  caressing  word  like  a 
spirited  horse  at  the  touch  of  a  whip. 

"  There  is  now  no  need  of  that !"  she  said,  bitterly. 
"  All  is  past  and  done  with.  I  go  back  to  mine  own 
place  and  mine  own  folk.  For  me  there  is  nothing  else 
left !" 

"  But  you  must  come  with  me — home  to  Eathan — to 
Orraland,  dear  Joyce.  You  have  saved  my  life.  None 
other  shall  ever  be  my  wife.  My  father  and  mother  will 
rejoice  to  welcome  you  to  their  home.  I  know  their 
hearts." 

She  laughed  a  little  scornfully. 

"  They  will  welcome  the  news  you  take  them  much 
more,"  she  said,  and  stood  a  step  farther  off. 

"  The  news  I  take  them,  sweetheart  ?  What  can  that 
be,  save  that  I  love  you,  and  that  we  are  to  be  married  as 
soon  as  may  be  !" 

"  You  may  be  married,  truly — doubtless  you  will  soon 
provide  yourself  with  a  bride — if,  indeed,  is  there  not  one 
waiting  for  you  now  upon  the  Solway  shore  ?" 

"  Truly,  Joyce,  you  speak  only  to  try  me  !  Never  have  I 
loved  a  woman  before.  None  shall  be  my  bride  except  your 
sweet  self !" 

She  shook  her  head,  but  with  less  anger,  as  I  think,  than 
before. 

"  Perhaps  you  do  mean  it  now,"  she  said,  with  some- 
thing like  a  sigh,  "  in  your  way,  but  you  will  soon  forget ! 
But  love  me  you  do  not — not  as  I  understand  love.  Per- 
haps you  will  learn  some  day.  Pray  for  that  time,  even  if 
it  come  to  you  in  as  bitter  pain  as  it  has  come  to  Joyce 
Faa !" 

"  Then  you  love  me  ?" 

"  Love  you  ?"  She  laughed  a  little.  "  Well,  have  I  not 
brought  you  hither  ?  Have  I  not  delivered  you — at  a  price  f 
I  have  saved  your  life — at  a  price!    Love  you?    Well,  you 

151 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

can  think  it  over  as  you  ride  home  to  yonr  mother — and — 
any  other  who  may  be  waiting  for  you  !" 

"  I  know  that  you  have  saved  my  life,  sweetheart — you, 
and  you  alone.  But  you  spoke  of  a  price,  dear  Joyce — what 
is  that  price?  Nothing  that  can  come  between  us  two, 
surely  ?" 

"  A  price — ay,"  she  said,  "  not  a  great  price ;  a  price 
little  and  worthless,  but  long,  very  long,  in  the  paying. 
The  price  of  saving  you  is — myself !" 

I  held  out  my  arms  to  clasp  her  to  my  heart,  for  I 
thought  that  in  these  words  she  confessed  her  love  for  me. 

"  I  thank  you,  Joyce,"  I  said.  "  I  will  make  it  the 
sweetest  price  that  ever  was  paid,  and  the  longest  in  pay- 
ing— every  day  of  our  lives  a  new  happiness — " 

The  light  was  coming  clearer  now,  and  I  saw  her  lay 
her  hand  hastily  upon  her  heart,  and  sway  a  little,  as  if 
suddenly  taken  with  a  dwalm  of  sickness.  But  she  re- 
covered herself  and  stood  upright  again,  proudly  as  ever. 

She  set  the  palm  of  her  other  hand  against  her  breast. 
"  It  is  too  late,  Maxwell  lad,"  she  said,  smiling  kindly. 
"  Had  you  found  out  sooner — well,  it  might  have  been. 
But  you  let  it  slip,  and  now — there  was  no  other  way  to 
save  you  from  the  death  which  had  been  determined 
against  you.  He  that  helped  me  would  take  no  other  price. 
So  I  must  pay — and  pay  T  will !" 

She  leaned  her  elbows  upon  the  barn-end,  and  dropped 
her  face  into  her  palms. 

And  as  I  stood  watching  her  thus,  and  wondering  at  her 
emotion,  which  even  then  I  but  vaguely  understood,  Harry 
I'olwart,  Hector  Faa's  sometime  lieutenant,  came  round 
the  corner  of  the  steading  leading  a  horse  saddled  and 
bridled. 

As  soon  as  he  saw  us  he  checked  himself,  but  imme- 
diately changing  his  mind,  he  came  on  towards  us,  a  scowl 
on  his  handsome  gypsy  face. 

"  Here  is  your  horse,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  challenge. 
153 


THE    NIGHT    JOUENEY 

"  When  you  reach  Orraland,  let  it  be  tethered  outside  the 
gate  on  the  third  night  after  your  arrival,  and  it  will  be 
fetched.    Further  than  that,  do  not  concern  yourself." 

Then  he  turned  to  Joyce,  who  had  not  moved. 

"  Have  you  told  him  ?"  he  said,  but  not  roughly,  as  he 
had  spoken  to  me,  rather  gently  and  with  a  certain  grave 
deference. 

The  girl  let  fall  her  hands,  and  looked  from  the  one  to 
the  other  of  us  with  a  dazed  expression. 

"  Tell  him  !"  he  said,  more  firmly. 

Then,  as  if  she  had  been  a  child  again  repeating  a  lesson 
she  knew  by  heart,  she  said :  "  I  promised  to  marry  Harry 
Polwart,  if  he  would  help  me  to  save  your  life.  I  could 
have  done  nothing  without  him.  You  would  surely  have 
died.    My  father  had  no  pity." 

She  paused,  and  the  young  gypsy  took  her  by  the  hand. 

"  Come  !"  he  said,  with  a  not  unkindly  constraint.  Then 
he  looked  up  at  me  with  a  certain  light  of  defiance  in  his 
eye. 

"  You  need  not  be  afraid  to  trust  her  to  me.  Harry 
Polwart  can  hate,  as  you  know,  but  then  he  is  equally 
good  at  loving.  And  she  will  be  happier  among  her  own 
people !" 

Then  again  he  bent  a  little  towards  the  girl,  and  said, 
"  Come,  Joyce !" 

A  quick,  fierce  sob  shook  her  frame,  almost  like  a  man's 
weeping. 

"  I  have  saved  him,"  she  said,  throwing  up  her  head, 
and  looking  at  us  both  boldly  and  fully.  "  No  one  can 
take  that  from  me.  And  now — yes,  I  will  pay  the 
price !" 

She  dropped  her  head  again,  and  for  the  third  time  the 
gypsy  took  her  hand.  "  You  must  come  away !"  he  said, 
more  firmly. 

She  seemed  to  nod  an  acquiescence,  and  without  look- 
ing up,  or  speaking  another  word,  Joyce  Faa  went  slowly 

153 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

round  the  corner  of  the  wall  out  of  my  sight,  her  hand  in 
another  man's  hand. 

Then  I  mounted  my  horse,  and  with  a  reeling  brain  and 
only  the  empty  ache  of  my  heart  dinning  in  my  ears,  I 
rode  along  that  mountain  southward  towards  Eathan.  But 
1  did  not  once  look  behind  me. 


XXIII 

MAY    MISCHIEF    MAKES    SOME 

THIS  which  follows  is  the  more  cheerful  tale  of  the 
three  who  rode  northward  from  the  house  of  Orra- 
land,  on  the  Solway  shore,  to  effectuate,  after  their  own 
fashion,  my  liberation.  A  more  gallant  trio  pressed  not 
saddle-leather  that  day  on  any  bridle-path  or  highway 
military  throughout  broad  Scotland.  To  wit,  there  was 
Mistress  Heron  of  Rathan  and  Orraland,  my  fair  and 
gracious  mother;  Grisel,  our  dear  Miss  Minx,  light  of 
heart,  light  of  heel,  and — more  than  occasionally — light  of 
head;  also,  thirdly,  a  most  dashing  cavalier,  one  Dick  o' 
the  Isle,  riding  out  into  the  eye  of  day  as  unabashed  as  if 
there  had  never  been  a  lawless  muster  betwixt  Saterness 
and  the  Quarry  Hole  o'  Cassencairy. 

My  mother  was  gay — "  abune  hersel',"  as  Eppie,  our 
old  dependent,  would  have  said.  Her  youthful  keenness 
for  a  freakish  ploy  came  upon  her  like  a  seizure,  and  lo ! 
she  was  again  May  Mischief,  as  of  old. 

The  spirit  of  mirthful  daring  had  come  upon  Marion 
also.  Her  more  serious  work  was  for  the  time  being  done. 
Every  obnoxious  dyke  was  flat  on  all  the  southern  estates, 
and  in  many  cases  the  landlords  patrolled  their  policies 
with  armed  train-bands  of  their  own  raising  to  keep  even 
their  park  walls  intact.  Dick  o'  the  Isle — the  bold,  brave, 
handsome  Captain  Dick — had  grown  suddenly  famous. 
His  name  was  in  every  mouth,  his  praises  sung  at  every 
inglenook.    So  that  this  was  not  Dick  o'  the  Isle,  but  an- 

155 


THE    DAKK    0'    THE     MOON 

other  Dick — even  one  Captain  Eiehard  Heron,  of  his  j\Iaj- 
esty's  Feneibles. 

The  blue  bonnet  and  sash,  the  rig-and-fur  stockings,  the 
Puritan  array  of  the  young  leader  of  ploughboys  and 
cottiers'  sons  was  a  disguise  manifestly  unsafe.  Yet  it 
was  altogether  something  too  much  akin  to  my  mother's 
heart  to  forego,  that  in  her  quest  after  a  lost  son,  in  danger 
from  a  beauteous  but  detrimental  gypsy  maiden,  Grisel 
and  she  should  be  escorted  by  a  dashing  cavalier  as  hand- 
some as  he  was  mysterious. 

Many  were  the  discussions  at  Orraland  as  to  the  garb 
which  Captain  Eichard  should  wear,  till  at  last  it  struck 
Grisel  that  the  King's  uniform — which  had  been  got  for 
me  in  the  year  of  the  troubles  concerning  my  Lord  Ken- 
mure's  rebellion,  in  order  that  I  might  go  out  and  fight 
for  King  George  and  the  Protestant  succession  (not  to 
speak  of  the  safety  and  well-being  of  the  loyal  House  of 
Heron) — might  possibly,  with  a  little  shortening  and  a 
good  deal  of  making  over,  be  made  to  fit  the  figure  of  the 
soi-disant  Dick  of  the  Isle — Captain  Dick,  rebel  and  Level- 
ler, now  setting  forth  on  a  new  adventure  as  a  gallant 
squire  of  dames. 

As  sure  as  I  tell  it,  these  three  madcap  wights,  one  of 
them  (and,  verily,  the  maddest  of  all)  the  mother  that 
bore  me,  sat  up  secretly  at  night,  or  during  the  day  hastily 
pushed  seams  under  couches  and  behind  curtains  at  the 
sound  of  my  father's  footsteps,  till  there  was  never  a  more 
spruce  or  well-set-up  officer  on  his  Majesty's  roster  than 
young  Captain  Heron  of  Pathan  and  Orraland.  For  in 
appropriating  my  uniform  these  three  harpies  had  also 
made  free  with  my  birthright,  so  that  on  my  arrival  I  bade 
fair  to  find  myself  without  oither  name  or  fame,  character 
or  cleading. 

"And  so,for  a  day  or  two, good-bye, dear  Patrick!"  cried 
my  mother,  as  my  father  helped  her  to  mount.  "  No, 
indeed,  and  you  shall  not  ride  any  part  of  the  way  with  us. 

15G 


MAY    MISCHIEF    MAKES    SOME 

We  do  not  need  you,  and  you  know  you  must  go  over  to 
the  Isle  and  oversee  Sanimle  Tamson.  I  have  a  message, 
too,  for  Eppie,  which  you  can  take.  Tell  her  not  to  be 
anxious  about  Marion  for  a  day  or  two.  I  will  look  after 
her.  She  is  to  meet  us  at  the  change-house  of  Causeway 
End." 

For  to  her  husband  Mistress  ]\Iay  had  reported  that  she 
went  to  visit  an  ancient  crony,  the  Lady  Grace  Gordon, 
at  her  new  mansion  house  of  Greenlaw.  It  was  so  long 
since  they  had  seen  each  other.  The  Lady  Grace  had 
written  frequently — she  was  so  anxious  to  see  Grisel.  And 
so  on  and  so  forth,  as  is  the  custom  of  that  larger  portion 
of  humanity  who  (with  intent  or  without  it)  habitually 
tell  only  a  part  of  the  truth. 

For  to  the  new  house  of  Greenlaw — a  plain-faced,  white- 
washed domicile  with  an  ancient  staircase — the  two  were 
indeed  bound,  but  also,  in  intention,  somewhat  farther. 

And  now,  who  gayer  than  Mistress  May  Mischief  (late 
dame  of  Orraland  and  Isle  Eathan),  when,  with  Captain 
Dick  at  her  right  hand  and  her  daughter  Grisel  on  the 
left,  she  rode  away  northward.  For  though  there  never 
were  two  people  more  made  for  each  other  than  Patrick 
Heron  and  his  wife  May,  I  Judge  that  my  father's  well- 
contented  staidness  was  sometimes  a  trial  to  the  more 
lightsome  and  freakish  spirit  which  shared  his  fortunes. 

For  however  well  two  folk  may  love  each  other,  to  the 
more  sportive  nature  of  the  two  a  masquerade  once  in 
twenty  years  or  so  is  congenial,  and  to  be  considered  good 
ground  for  a  certain  elevation  of  spirits. 

But  this  day  my  mother  was  completely  "  fey."  She 
insisted  on  Captain  Dick  telling  the  adventure  of  Colonel 
Gunter's  pistol  (of  which  she  had  vaguely  heard),  of  the 
breaking  of  the  dykes,  and  all  the  other  incidents  of  the 
agrarian  strife.  So  much  did  she  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
the  matter,  that  Grisel  judged  it  an  opportune  occasion  to 
reveal   her   own  part  in   the   Muster   at  Eascarrel,   and 

157 


THE    DARK    0'     THE     MOOX 

was  graciously  pardoned  upon  Captain  Dick  entering  into 
a  covenant  not  to  repeat  these  performances  without  the 
approval  of  the  mother  of  that  stout  private  of  Level- 
lers, Mistress  Grisel  Heron. 

And  then  who  so  handsome  as  Captain  Dick?  The 
King's  scarlet  and  gold  setting  him  as  (God  wot!)  it  had 
never  set  its  original  wearer !  Out  of  the  way-side  cottages 
tumbled  hordes  of  bairns  to  stare  open-mouthed.  Maidens 
fair  (and  of  full  age  to  appreciate  such  things)  stood  apron 
at  lip,  smitten  to  the  heart  at  the  mere  sight — so  my 
mother  declared. 

"  Faith,  and  I  do  not  wonder !"  she  cried,  after  they 
had  passed  in  this  fashion  through  the  little  village  of 
Gelston,  which  stands  at  the  end  of  the  Loch  of  Carlin- 
wark ;  "  an'  it  were  not  that  I  ken  what  I  ken  aboot  ye, 
my  handsome  Dickie,  Patrick  Heron  might  have  cause  to 
rue  the  day  he  trusted  his  married  wife  to  the  like  o'  ye ! 
And  as  for  Grisel  here,  I  fear  ye  hae  spoiled  her  for  a'  the 
braw  callants  that  will  come  chappin'  at  our  yett,  for  a 
score  of  years !" 

And  indeed  he  was  very  handsome,  that  same  Captain 
Dick.  Being  slight  and  well  set  up,  he  looked  taller  on 
horseback  than  on  foot,  and  he  rode  with  the  grace  of  a 
born  light-horseman.  True,  the  mustache  which  he  ca- 
ressed was  wellnigh  invisible,  but  the  upward  swirl  of 
his  dark  eyelash  matched  in  effective  jfierceness  the  swag- 
gering frown  of  many  a  cuirassier. 

It  was  at  another  cross-roads  before  the  entering  in  of 
the  village  of  Causeyend  that  fate  came  suddenly  upon 
them.  Here  two  paths  meet,  at  a  place  called  the  Furbar, 
one  from  Kirdcudbright,  and  the  other  that  upon  which 
our  three  were  travelling  towards  Greenlaw  and  the  Lady 
Grace. 

Tall  trees,  beeches,  and  ash-trees  mostly,  grow  there,  and 
the  place  of  meeting  is  deeply  shaded.  They  were  all 
talking  and  laughing  gaylv,  whollv  wrapped  in  themselves, 

'  158 


MAY    MISCHIEF    MAKES    SOME 

as,  whatever  foolish  and  unobservant  men  say,  women  often 
are. 

But  suddenly  there  was  a  clatter  of  hoofs  before  them, 
the  neigh  of  a  horse,  and  they  found  themselves  face  to 
face  with  the  Earl  of  Kirkham  and  his  daughter. 


XXIV 

LOVE    AND    SYLVIA 

THE  first  stun  of  surprise  was  quickly  followed  by  a 
feeling  of  relief.  For  although  the  Earl  of  Kirkham 
was  bad  enough,  Colonel  Gunter  would  have  been  ten  times 
worse.  Because  to  the  military  eye,  the  standing  and  ser- 
vice of  Captain  Richard  Heron  would  have  suggested  co- 
nundrums which  it  would  have  been  very  difficult  for  his 
companions  to  solve  without  more  or  less  of  preparation. 

"  Good-morrow  to  you,  fair  mistress,"  cried  the  Earl,  a 
man  of  forms  and  observances,  but  with  much  antiquated 
coquetry  about  him;  "good-morrow  to  you  all.  Well  do 
I  remember  you.  Mistress  Patrick  Heron,  and  the  ball  at 
the  Dumfries  Assembly  Rooms,  where  you  made  me  so 
happy  by  dancing  the  coranto  with  me." 

"  Your  courtesy  is  better  than  your  memory,  my  lord," 
said  my  mother,  "  for  it  was  my  daughter  you  danced 
with." 

"  But  it  was  you  I  talked  to,  my  lady  of  Rathan,"  re- 
turned the  peer,  taking  off  his  hat  ceremoniously;  "the 
fairer  mother  of  a  fair  daughter,  eh?  No,  I  have  not 
forgot  either  you  or  this  fair  maid.  But  this  young  gen- 
tleman in  his  Majesty's  uniform — I  do  not  think  I  have 
met  him  before." 

" 'Tis  my  son  Richard,  or,  as  we  call  him  more  often, 
Dick,"  said  my  mother,  blushing.  "  He  has  been  long  from 
us,  being  with  his  uncle,  who  is  in  the  French  service — " 

"Ah!    bad,  bad;    infenially    bad!"    cried    the    Earl; 

100 


LOVE    AND    SYLVIA 

"  makes  a  young  fellow  either  a  Jacobite  or  a  jaek-a- 
dandy,  eh — ha,  ha !  That  is  what  I  always  say.  Good,  is  it 
not  ?  I  said  it  myself,  eight  years  ago,  of  a  cousin  of  mine 
who  went  to  France,  and  it  hath  been  my  joke  ever  since." 

"  Father,"  said  his  daughter,  "  I  am  sure  this  young  gen- 
tleman is  neither  one  nor  the  other." 

"  How  do  you  know,  Sylvia — ha,  ha  ?"  cried  the  peer, 
laughing  with  a  noise  like  a  rickety  spinning-wheel.  "  Tell 
me  how  you  know  that?" 

The  Lady  Sylvia  Kirkham  was  a  maiden,  as  one  might 
say,  a  little  over-ripe.  A  wrinkle  or  two  had  to  be  kept 
track  of,  and  the  smoother  side  of  her  face  exposed  upon 
important  occasions.  There  was  a  touch  of  color,  too, 
upon  her  cheek,  a  tinge  that  did  not  deserve  the  name  of 
rouge,  but  which,  as  it  were,  recalled  to  the  beholder  the 
evening  glow  of  the  sun  upon  warm-tinted  rocks.  But  still, 
in  her  own  idea,  Sylvia  Kirkham  was  young  and  fascinat- 
ing. Good-tempered  she  was,  too,  kindly  natured,  gen- 
erous, impulsive;  her  only  fault  a  liability  to  the  fallacy 
that  every  man  she  met  was  certain  to  fall  in  love  with  her. 

So  when  her  father  put  this  question  she  bridled  a  little, 
turned  her  mare's  head  aside,  and  answered :  "  The  young 
gentleman  is  no  Jack-a-dandy,  one  can  see  by  his  counte- 
nance; and  as  to  his  being  a  Jacobite — why,  he  wears  the 
King's  coat,  and,  besides,  he  is  the  son  of  Mr.  Heron  of 
Rathan.  And  you  know,  father,  I  have  often  heard  you 
say  that  there  was  not  a  more  loyal  man  than  he  in  the 
county." 

"  Nor  is  there,  Sylvia — nor  is  there !  But  I  have  great 
pleasure  in  making  the  acquaintance  of — what  is  your  rank, 
sir? — Captain  Richard  Heron." 

"  I  shall  call  him  Dick,"  said  the  Lady  Sylvia,  simper- 
ingly ;  "  may  I,  Captain  Dick  ?  '  Richard  '  always  reminds 
me  of  the  bad  King  with  the  hunchback  who  killed  the  little 
boys." 

And  she  looked  so  beseechingly  that  the  gallant  officer 
11  161 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE    MOON 

had  perforce  to  agree,  as  joyfully  as  he  could,  lest  his 
repute  for  courtesy  should  fall  beneath  contempt. 

"  You  must  turn  aside  to  Castle  Kirkham,  and  give  me 
the  pleasure  of  your  company  at  dinner,"  said  the  Earl,  in 
his  turn;  "  we  dine  always  at  two  o'clock  of  the  day.  'Tis 
somewhat  late,  I  know;  but  then,  Sylvia  prides  herself  on 
bringing  to  these  wilds  some  of  the  manners  of  St.  James." 

"  I  thank  your  lordship,"  said  my  mother,  now  eager  to 
be  gone,  "  but  we  have  a  long  travel  before  us,  and  must 
proceed  with  some  considerable  speed.  We  are  covenanted 
to  sleep  to-night  in  the  house  of  the  Lady  Grace  Gordon, 
at  Greenlaw." 

The  Earl's  daughter  gave  a  little,  eager  cry. 

"  How  wonderfully  diverting !"  she  cried ;  "  indeed,  it 
falls  out  like  a  Providence !  Now  I  can  go  with  you.  For 
my  father  was  to  send  me  thither  yesterday  to  that  very 
place,  but  owing  to  the  depredations  of  this  Dick  o'  the  Isle 
(all  Dicks  are  sad  rogues,  I  fear  !),  he  had  to  bide  at  home, 
and  young  Theophilus  Gunter  as  well,  so  I  could  find  no- 
body to  take  me  to  Greenlaw.  Things  have  come  to  a  pretty 
pass  when  the  Lady  Sylvia  Kirkham  has  actually  to  pray 
for  an  escort  and  be  refused — " 

"  Now,  childie,"  said  her  father,  who  held  his  daughter's 
views  as  to  her  bewitching  youth — or,  at  least,  found  it 
convenient  to  pretend  to  adopt  them — "you  know  well 
enough,  little  one,  that  it  was  not  Theo's  fault.  He  had  to 
abide  by  his  father,  who  had  been  shot  at  and  half  mur- 
dered by  that  villain  Dick  o'  the  Isle,  the  Captain  of 
Levellers,  as  he  calls  himself.  As  soon  as  he  gets  him 
hanged,  Theo  Gunter  will  be  at  your  feet  all  day  and  every 
day !" 

"  Well,  father,  at  any  rate  we  are  safe  now !"  cried  his 
daughter.  "  Here  we  have  a  brave  young  man  for  our 
escort — a  King's  officer;  and  if  the  wicked  Dick  so  much 
as  set  his  head  round  the  corner — why.  Captain  Heron 
would  shoot  him  dead." 

162 


LOVE   AND    SYLVIA 

"  Indeed  I  would,"  cried  the  gallant  youth,  rising  to  the 
occasion.  "  I  swear  to  shoot  Dick  o'  the  Isle  the  first  time 
I  meet  him  face  to  face  !" 

"  Ay,  and  he  would  be  as  good  as  his  word,  I  can  vouch 
for  that!"  cried  my  mother,  proudly  gazing  at  the  hand- 
some lad,  who  sat  blushing  as  red  as  his  scarlet  uniform. 

"  'Tis  more  than  most  mothers  of  my  acquaintance  are 
able  to  say !"  cried  the  Earl,  gayly.  "  But  if  you  will  be 
so  kind,  madam,  as  to  permit  this  silly  child  of  mine  to  ac- 
company you  on  your  journey,  you  will  confer  a  very  con- 
siderable favor  upon  me,  and  one  which  I  will  be  slow  to 
forget." 

"  But,"  said  my  mother,  to  gain  time,  "  the  young  lady's 
outfit — her  dresses — ?" 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  do  not  annoy  yourself !"  cried  the  Lady 
Sylvia,  quickly ;  "  my  father  sent  all  these  on  ahead  yes- 
terday with  Antony,  his  man,  my  maid  Trixy  riding  on  a 
pillion  behind  him — " 

"  God  help  that  horse,  then !"  cried  my  mother,  un- 
awares, "  for  Antony  is  twenty  good  stones  weight,  to  begin 
with !" 

But  my  lord  never  minded,  being  set  upon  the  Lady 
Sylvia's  new  idea. 

"  I  am  much  indebted  to  you,  madam,"  said  the  Earl, 
taking  off  his  hat,  and  making  ready  to  depart.  "  During 
these  troubles,  this  is  no  place  for  a  young  girl  of  rank 
and  beauty,  and  you  do  well,  madam,  to  carry  off  your 
daughter  till  a  better  spirit  is  abroad  in  the  land." 

He  was  a  very  wearisome  old  gentleman,  yet  (though 
they  thought  it  not  now)  the  time  came  when  the  Orraland 
trio  would  gladly  have  welcomed  him  back  to  the  com- 
pany. 

And  now  the  three  who  had  started  so  gayly,  and  been 
so  bright  and  gallant  with  each  other,  especially  when 
riding  through  the  great  stretches  of  moorland  silence, 
had  become  four.    But  a  brace  of  pairs  in  this  case  proved 

163 


THE    DARK    0'     THE    MOON 

no  good  company.  For  the  Lady  Sylvia,  without  a  word  to 
the  others,  appropriated  Captain  Dick — who,  for  his  very 
manhood's  sake,  could  not  permit  her  to  ride  on  ahead  unat- 
tended, while  my  mother,  her  madcap  humor  suddenly 
dampened  and  her  purpose  blunted,  rode  somewhat  gloomi- 
ly along  Avith  Grisel,  whom  bottled  indignation  was  fast 
converting  into  a  perfect  little  spitfire. 

"  The  wizened  old  maid,"  she  said  to  her  mother,  with 
the  prettiest  spitefulness,  "  to  force  herself  in  where  she 
was  not  wanted,  and  to  carry  off  Marion  just  when  the  sport 
was  at  its  finest !  TJgh  !  I  could  strangle  her !  The  Lady 
Sylvia  Kirkham,  indeed !  I  wish  it  would  come  a  shower 
of  rain,  and  we  could  see  that  pink-and-white  complexion 
somewhat  spattered !  I  have  no  patience  with  such 
people !" 

"  We  will  get  rid  of  her  at  Greenlaw,"  said  my  mother ; 
"  that  is  one  comfort !" 

"  Oh,  do  not  be  so  sure  of  that !"  Grisel  cried ;  "  she  will 
be  up  to  her  ears  in  love  with  Dick  by  that  time — " 

"  Dick — Dick  !  What  Dick  ?"  said  my  mother,  whose 
mind  had  been  busy  contriving  ways  and  means  to  extri- 
cate herself  from  the  difficulties  into  which  her  "  fey " 
humor  had  brought  her,  and  who  had  momentarily  for- 
gotten Dick  o'  the  Isle.  Morning  nearly  always  brought 
counsel  to  my  mother,  but  never  interfered  with  the  mad 
humors  of  the  night. 

"  Why,  Captain  Heron,  of  course !  Your  so  handsome 
son — otherwise  our  Marion  there !"  said  her  daughter, 
pointing  with  hor  stick  to  where  the  scarlet  and  gold  of 
the  brave  cavalier  and  the  ])lue  riding-ha1)it  of  the  Lady 
Sylvia  gleamed  through  the  dancing  lightness  of  the 
birchen  sprays,  which  they  shed  like  green  waves  on  either 
side  of  them. 

As  they  looked,  the  Lady  Sylvia  half  turned  in  her 
saddle,  and  tapped  her  companion  lightly  on  the  arm  with 
her  riding-whip. 

164 


LOVE    AND    SYLVIA 

'"  See  that  I"  cried  Grisel,  fierce  and  quick  as  the  greet- 
ing .a  cat  gives  a  strange  dog ;  "  she  is  at  it  again !  If  that 
does  not  sicken  jMarion — well,  she  is  stronger  in  the 
stomach  than  I  take  her  for !  And  then,  she  will  have  to 
contrive  sweet  speeches  in  reply !  Ha,  ha !  I  would  that 
I  could  hear  them  at  it !" 

"  But,"  sighed  her  mother,  dolefully,  "  I  would  rather 
that  we  were  well  out  of  this  business.  It  is  a  mad  ploy, 
at  the  best.     And  what  will  Patrick  say?" 

"  That,  madam,  you  should  have  thought  on  sooner !" 
snapped  Grisel,  who  at  the  moment  was  not  in  the  sweet- 
est of  tempers. 

After  this  passage  of  arms  the  couple  proceeded  a  long 
way  towards  the  house  of  Greenlaw,  without  further  in- 
terruption to  the  silence  which  fell  upon  them. 

But  with  the  couple  in  advance,  the  Lady  Sylvia  and  our 
gallant  Captain  Dick  o'  the  Isle,  matters  went  very  dif- 
ferently. 

x\t  first  Marion  (to  call  her  for  once  by  her  own  name, 
that  we  may  catch  the  point  of  view)  had  been  a  little 
nervous.  But  as  the  glamour  grew  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lady 
Sylvia,  and  it  seemed  impossible  to  penetrate  her  dis- 
guise, the  words  and  acts  of  a  young  home-returning  Scot 
came  the  more  easily  to  her,  that  she  and  Grisel  had  spent 
two  entire  winters  in  the  gay  city  of  Paris.  So  Captain 
Dick  straightened  his  shoulders,  and  answered  with  an  as- 
surance which  practice  soon  made  perfect. 

Sjdvia  had  arrived  at  the  age  when  she  preferred  very 
young  men.  And  this  in  itself  marks  a  stage.  It  happens 
most  frequently  to  married  women  who  sigh  for  a  little 
innocent  admiration  of  a  more  demonstrative  sort  than  is 
supplied  by  well-accustomed  domesticity.  But  sometimes 
it  arrives  to  a  maid  who  has  passed  her  prime,  and  then 
the  type  produced  is  of  a  very  curious  sort. 

Sylvia's  methods  of  love-making  were  those  of  the  bold 
165 


THE    DARK    0'     THE     :\IOON 

buccaneer.  H  consisted  in  extorting  compliments  and  dec- 
larations at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  and  tlien,Avith  the  same 
weapon,  pinning  her  unfortunate  victim  to  his  own  words. 

"  And  so,  Captain  Dick,"  she  said,  with  a  tender  glance 
up  at  him,  "  you  have  come  back  from  France.  Ah !  I  am 
sorry  for  that,  for  how  can  we  poor  innocent  young  maids, 
who  have  been  all  the  time  tied  to  our  mother's  apron- 
strings,  hope  to  vie,  in  your  travelled  heart,  with  the  beau- 
ties of  the  Court  ?" 

"  T  am  sure  that  the  Lady  Sylvia  Kirkham  has  nothing 
to  fear  on  that  score,"'  said  Captain  Dick,  gallantly,  pray- 
ing to  the  gods  for  aid. 

"  Ah,  you  are  a  deceiver !"  cried  Sylvia.  "  La !  how 
can  men  be  so  false !  Not  one  in  twenty  of  you  ever 
mean  what  you  say.  And  especially  you.  Captain  Dick, 
who  have  practised  all  sorts  of  taking  sayings  on  the 
madames  of  the  Court  of  King  Louis — who,  if  all  tales  be 
true,  are  little  better — " 

"  Indeed,  I  have  never  done  anything  of  the  kind,"  said 
Dick,  hastily,  and  witli  perfect  truth. 

"  And  am  I  really  the  first,  then,  in  whose  innocent  ear 
you  have  whispered  these  sweet  nothings?  I  cannot  be- 
lieve it,  to  look  at  you!    No,  that  I  cannot!''' 

She  sighed  as  she  spoke. 

"  The  very  first,"  said  Captain  Dick,  mentally  consign- 
ing the  daughter  of  an  earl  to  a  place  where  soft  nothings 
are  not  supposed  to  be  current  coin. 

"  Jf  only  T  could  believe  you!  But,  la!  men  are  such 
unconscionable  gallants  nowadays !"  said  Sylvia,  in  a  very 
lackadaisical  manner,  languishing  at  Dick  from  under  her 
bold,  black  brows,  knowing  that  the  deep  shade  of  the  trees 
kept  the  crows'  feet  from  showing. 

The  devil  at  this  point  tempted  Dick  to  answer:  "  I  sup- 
pose men  were  very  different  when  you  were  young?"  But  a 
good  angel  intervened,  and  he  said,  instead :  "  Men  are  cer- 
tainly very  much  alike  where  the  Lady  Sylvia  is  concerned." 

166 


LOVE    AND    SYLVIA 

At  this  point  the  Lady  Sylvia  stretched  across  to  her 
cavalier  a  gloved  hand,  vrhich  was  certainly  very  small 
and  sufficiently  dainty.  Dick  could  not  do  less  than  bend 
over  in  the  saddle  and  kiss  it,  having  at  the  same  time  an 
acute  consciousness  in  the  small  of  his  back  that  the  two 
behind  were  laughing  consuraedly. 

"You  must  come  back  with  me  to  Castle  Kirkham," 
said  Sylvia.  "  All  day  we  will  roam  the  woods,  and  by 
the  purling  brook  we  will  gather  us  flowers.  In  the  even- 
ings I  will  tease  my  father  to  have  you  advanced  in  rank. 
He  has  great  influence  in  the  army." 

"  I  will  certainly  come  to  Kirkham  Castle,"  said  Dick, 
thinking,  however,  that  when  he  did  the  lady  might  not 
like  it  so  well  as  she  anticipated.  And,  as  if  speaking  his 
thought,  the  lady  clapped  her  hands,  and  cried :  "  That 
will  be  splendid !  We  will  not  be  afraid  of  Dick  of  the 
Isle  any  more  when  you  are  there — and  Colonel  Tredennis 
also,  who  is  coming  with  a  regiment  of  King's  soldiers  to 
make  an  end  of  the  rebellion !" 

"  When  does  he  arrive  ?"  asked  Captain  Kichard  Heron, 
looking  at  his  companion  Avith  more  interest  than  he  had 
yet  shown. 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  great  secret,  and  my  father  would  be  angry 
if  he  knew  I  had  told ;  but  as  you  also  are  a  King's  officer, 
it  does  not  matter.  Colonel  Tredennis  is  lying  at  Ruth- 
well,  near  to  Dumfries,  with  his  men,  and  is  to  march  on 
the  evening  of  the  eighth  day  from  now,  at  the  dark  of  the 
moon,  going  round  by  New  Abbey  to  surprise  a  muster  of 
the  wicked  Levellers.  There  will  be  a  great  battle,  all 
the  rebels  will  be  taken  prisoners,  and  very  certainly  Dick 
of  the  Isle  will  either  be  shot  or  hanged !" 

"  You  will  be  glad  of  that  ?"  asked  her  companion,  look- 
ing away  from  the  Lady  Sylvia  in  what  appeared  to  her 
to  be  a  curious  manner  for  a  man  of  his  evident  breeding 
and  gallantry. 

"  Surely,"  she  cried,  "  you  and  I  can  have  no  sympathy 
"167 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE    MOON 

with  these  godless  villains?  We  have  nothing  in  common 
with  them  ?  They  are  dirty,  unwashed,  ill-bred,  and  quite 
lacking  in  reverence  for  their  superiors !  But  you  are  a 
gentleman — gallant,  handsome "  (here  it  was  that  she 
tapped  him  on  the  arm) — "and  since  you  are  the  son  of 
Mt.  Patrick  Heron  of  Eathan,  who  has  lately  bought  the 
estates  of  Orraland,  I  am  sure  that — that — if  3'ou  behave 
openly  with  my  father,  and — la !  how  I  blush  to  mention 
such  a  thing  ! — but  if  you  speak  to  him  of — of — of  what 
3'^6u  have  been  saying  to  me,  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  will 
bestow  my  hand  upon  you,  though  you  are  but  a  commoner ! 
Perhap^  he  will  get  you  made  a  lord,  who  knows?  He  has 
a  mighty  great  influence  with  the  government !" 

Here  Captain  Dick,  with  a  limp  back  and  a  perspiring 
frame,  tried  to  combine  mental  agony  with  the  enthusiasm 
proper  to  an  accepted  lover. 

"Good  Lord!"  he  thought,  "here  am  I,  not  only  the 
leader  of  the  rebels,  but  engaged  to  marry  the  daughter  of 
their  chief  enemy !" 

And  then  a  certain  thought  rose  with  a  great  bound  of 
relief  in  the  mind  of  Dick  of  the  Isle — alias  Captain 
Richard  Heron,  alias  Mistress  Marion  of  Isle  Rathan — a 
thought  connected  with  the  mutability  of  all  human 
affairs,  and  especially  with  the  exceeding  mutability  of 
borrowed  riding-l)reeches  and  coats  of  scarlet  and  gold 
worn  by  officers  of  his  ]\Iajesty's  Fenciblcs. 

And  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  ]\Iarion  thanked  the 
powers  that  have  permanently  arranged  the  conditions  of 
sex  under  the  decent  concealing  draperies,  yclept  petticoats 
— and  for  the  added  covertures  called  gowns  and  padua- 
soys. 

Her  old  lindsey-woolsey  go^vn  became  to  her  as  an  ark 
of  safety. 

"  She  surely  will  not  insist  on  marrying  me  then !"  she 
said. 


XXV 
JASPER   JAMIE   PLAYS    "CROSS-TIG" 

BUT  any  such  deliverance  as  this  was  long  deferred 
and  far  to  seek.  The  true  god  out  of  the  machine 
appeared  an  hour  or  two  before  they  expected  to  come  in 
sight  of  the  comfortable  white  bulk  of  the  new  house  of 
Greenlaw,  ensconced  amid  its  green  plantations,  still  little 
larger  than  fir-cones  stuck  in  the  ground.  Jasper  Jamie 
Avas  the  deliverer,  not  of  intent,  but  of  compulsion;  and 
the  motive  poAver  which  sent  him  to  dare  his  fate  with  the 
Lady  Sylvia  was  the  wrath,  malice,  and  all-uncharitable- 
ness  which  had  been  accumulating  in  the  breast  of  that 
pretty  fury — my  sister  Grisel. 

Now  for  this  a  brother  would  not  have  cared  a  doit,  or 
replied  only  with  an  advice  to  our  Grisel  to  do  such  jobs 
herself,  if  she  wished  them  well  done.  But  with  Jasper  it 
was  different.  The  mere  flutter  of  a  petticoat  put  him  in 
a  tremor.  I  have  seen  a  servant- wench  at  an  inn-ordinary 
order  him  about  (after  she  had  taken  his  measure)  like  her 
own  kitchen  scullion. 

I  have  suffered  much  in  my  time  for  my  chillish  in- 
sensibility to  womenkind  and  their  influences,  but — the 
Lord  preserve  me  from  the  disaster  of  Jamie  Jasper's 
temperament ! 

It  will  be  seen,  then,  how  little  chance  he  had  in  such 
a  company  as  that  upon  which  he  now  made  up,  his  beast 
in  a  lather  with  his  frantic  haste,  just  where  the  by-way 
to  Threave  debouches  out  of  the  woodlands  of  Cross 
Michael. 

169 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

It  was  Grisel  who  was  chiefly  in  Jasper's  thought  as  he 
rode.  Not  exclusively,  of  course.  For,  owing  to  the  defect 
of  organization  of  which  I  have  spoken,  he  was  in  love 
also  with  Marion  of  the  Isle.  But  a  certain  austerity  in 
that  damsel  having  checked  his  Llood  in  the  initial  stages, 
his  passion  for  Grisel  had  1  ad,  as  it  wexe,  a  considerable 
start,  and  now  bade  fair  (not  being  interfered  with)  to 
become  a  "  passion  " — as  that  word  was  understood  by 
Jasper  Jamie. 

For  love  to  Jasper  was  of  the  nature  of  the  children's 
game  which  is  called  "  cross-tig."  This  consists  in  the 
pursuer  following  one  quarry  only  till  another  darts  be- 
tween pursuer  and  pursued,  when  the  hunter  instantly 
turns  his  attention  to  quarry  number  two,  till  such  time  as 
the  trail  is  crossed  once  more  by  quarry  number  three. 
It  is  an  enterprising  game  and  exhilarating,  with  a  resem- 
blance to  Jasper's  love  affairs  which  is  certainly  striking. 

But  on  the  whole,  at  the  time  when  he  caught  sight  of 
the  cavalcade  of  four  on  the  green  track  ahead  of  him,  it 
may  be  taken  for  granted  that  his  uneasy  heart  was  chiefly 
held  in  spell  by  the  charms  of  Grisel  Heron. 

"  Jasper  Jamie,  you  have  to  rid  us  of  that  cat !"  the  last- 
named  outspoken  lady  declared,  as  soon  as  she  had  dropped 
behind  to  give  Jasper  his  cue.  "  If  you  do  not — well,  I 
shall  never  speak  to  you  again.  You  can  go  back  to  your 
father,  and  learn  to  clean  paint-brushes  with  turpentine !" 

"  Grisel,"  said  the  young  man,  looking  eternal  devotion 
with  all  his  eyes,  "  you  speak  cruelly,  but  you  mean  to  be 
kind.  Tell  me  what  you  want  me  to  do,  and  I  will  do  it. 
I  am  not  clever — " 

"  God  knows !"  said  Grisel,  agreeing  fervently. 

"  But  you  know  that  I  love  you,  and  would  give  my  life 
to  serve  you !" 

"  '  Love  me !'  Since  when  ?"  cried  Grisel,  scornfully. 
"  Since  you  bought  the  dominie's  Toinette  that  pretty  lace 
collarette  out  of  Robin  Grieve's,  and  stole  a  Latin  poem 

170 


JASPER    JAMIE    PLAYS    "CROSS-TIG" 

to  send  with  it — out  of  Nichol's  collection,  misspelling 
six  of  the  words,  so  that  her  father,  Henry  Gowdenlock, 
declared  that  if  you  had  been  still  at  school,  he  would  have 
had  you  horsed  round  the  yard  for  such  carelessness  till 
you  howled  amain  ?" 

"  'Tis  false,  dear  Grisel — false  !"  cried  Jasper,  cut  to  the 
quick ;  "  this  story  was  all  a  lie  of  Max's,  made  up  out 
of  spite,  and  to  damage  me  in — in — " 

"  Ah,  yes — in  Marion's  eyes !"  retorted  Grisel,  like  a 
flash.  "  I  remember.  It  was  that  same  week  you  told 
Marion  that  she  was  '  like  Ariadne  on  a  sea-girt  isle,'  and 
she  asked  you  what  other  sort  of  isle  you  were  familiar 
with.  It  was  a  quick  conceit  of  Marion's !  Just  to  think 
that  then  she  was  all  bright  and  well — and  now,  alas !  poor 
Marion !" 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  her  ?"  said  Jasper,  anxiously. 

"  Ah  !  there  you  are !  You  see — you  still  love  her !" 
said  Grisel,  who,  to  tell  the  plain  truth,  cared  not  a  soli- 
tary doit  one  way  or  the  other. 

"  I  do  not,"  said  Jasper ;  "  but  I  would  not  have  her  ill 
or  misused.    I — I  respect  her." 

Grisel  laughed  heartily. 

"  I  will  certainly  tell  Marion.  She  will  sleep  the  better 
for  that  knowledge.  But  indeed,  of  a  surety,  she  is — how 
shall  I  say  it  ? — sore  vexed  with  a  devil !" 

"  Vexed  with  a  devil  ?"  queried  Jasper,  still  more  mysti- 
fied. 

Grisel  pointed  with  her  index-finger,  where,  on  the  edge 
of  the  woodlands,  my  mother  had  joined  the  gay  young 
cavalier  and  his  lady,  presumably  somewhat  to  their  cha- 
grin at  being  thus  interrupted. 

"  There,"  Grisel  said,  "  your  work  lies  yonder.  And  it 
is  also  a  wager  in  intellects.  Jasper,  if  you  can  separate 
that  cavalier  from  the  lady  at  his  side,  I  will  give  you — 
I  will  give  you  "  (with  a  quick  burst)  "  the  kiss  you  have 
been  pestering  me  about  this  week  of  Sundays !    There !" 

171 


THE    DARK    0'     THE     MOON 

The  reward  was  certainly  a  great  and  exceptional  one, 
and  worthy  of  the  highest  enterprise,  but  the  very  offer 
made  Jasper  suspicious. 

"  You  wish  them  separated,"  he  said.  "  Who  is  this 
young  officer  ?  He  wears  a  gay  coat.  Perhaps  he  has  also 
been  given  a  kiss  for  pleasing  you?" 

"  He  has,  and  many  of  them !" 

"  Grisel  Heron,  you  are  right  shameless !  All  is  over 
with  my  heart.  You  have  broken  it !  And  that,  too,  when 
you  knew  that  I  loved  you !  I  demand  that  you  tell  me 
who  is  the  young  man  whom  you  have  kissed  so  often — 
after  what  you  promised  to  me  last  Friday  fortnight  among 
the  nutwood  hazels !" 

"  What  if  he  be  my  new  brother — Captain  Eichard 
Heron,  of  the  Fencibles — newly  come  home  from  France?" 

"  A  likely  story  !"  cried  Jasper,  his  nose  in  the  air;  "  this 
is  the  first  I  ever  heard  of  your  having  a  brother  Dick,  and 
Max  and  I  have  had  the  self-same  lodging  ever  since  we 
were  birched  together  by  Dominie  Gowdenlock !" 

"  Well,"  quoth  Grisel,  tauntingly,  "  you  are  a  sports- 
man— what  say  you  to  laying  a  crown  on  the  matter?" 

"  I  would  rather  cry  double  or  quits  on  our  last  wager," 
said  the  artful  Jasper. 

"  Aha,  lad  !  double  or  quits  !  I  admire  your  impudence  !" 
said  Grisel.  "  Indeed,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  speak  of 
that  when  you  have  won  the  first  trick.  But  meantime,  if 
that  youth  there  in  the  scarlet  does  not  answer  to  the  name 
of  Captain  Richard  Heron,  you  shall  buy  me  a  pair  of 
Flemish  gloves  the  first  time  you  ride  into  Dumfries !" 

"  Done !"  said  Jasper,  who,  indeed,  asked  no  better  than 
to  spend  his  father's  money  on  any  pretty  girl — a  generosity 
not  uncommon  amongst  sons. 

"And  what  do  you  give  me?"  cried  Jasper,  immedi- 
ately, for  upon  second  thoughts  the  wager  seemed  some- 
what one-sided. 

"  That,"  said  Grisel,  "  we  need  not  condescend  upon,  for 
172 


JASPEE   JAMIE    PLAYS    "CROSS-TIG" 

it  will  not  happen.     When  we  ride  away  from  Greenlaw 
without  the  Lady  Sylvia — " 

"  The  Lady  Sylvia  Kirkham  ?"  queried  Jasper,  laughing. 

"  Why,  do  you  know  her  ?" 

"  I  have  narrowly  escaped  dancing  with  her  once  or 
twice,  as  a  man  flees  for  his  life,  at  the  Dumfries  assem- 
blies; and  once,  in  Edinburgh,  she  had  my  sedan  while  I 
walked  beside  it  down  from  the  High  Street,  bareheaded, 
in  a  northerly  rain." 

"  Brave  boy !"  cried  Grisel ;  "  you  will  do  well  yet, 
Jasper.  I  think,  after  all,  I  was  well  advised  not  to  make 
it  double  or  quits." 

Jasper  gazed  at  her  with  widely  interrogative  eyes. 
With  the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  he  could  not  always 
follow  her  swift  speeches,  and  moods  that  varied  and 
quavered  like  a  sunbeam  in  water. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Grisel,  "  that  you  are  the  very  man 
for  the  task !  Go,  with  my  blessing ;  go,  Jasper  Jamie, 
and  when  all  is  done,  and  well  done — why,  come  with  a 
bill  of  attachment,  and  see  if  you  can  collect  your  debt. 
If  I  am  not  dyvour  and  man-sworn  by  that  time,  well — 
you  shall  be  paid !" 

Still  somewhat  mystified,  but  with  the  usual  belief  in 
his  powers  of  love-making  (which  all  these  lumps  of  bone 
and  flesh  have),  Jasper  set  spurs  to  his  beast,  and  set  out 
to  overtake  the  three  in  front. 

My  mother  was  riding  with  the  Lady  Sylvia,  and  listen- 
ing to  the  praises  of  her  son  Richard  with  mingled  feelings, 
wondering,  as  usual,  how  she  should  get  out  of  the  scrape, 
and  what  Patrick,  her  husband,  would  say  to  it  all.  Their 
cavalier,  Captain  Dick,  had  been  detained  by  a  stone  in 
the  shoe  of  his  mare,  and  had  only  just  remounted  when 
he  was  overtaken  by  Jasper  Jamie. 

"  Captain  Richard  Heron,"  cried  the  latter,  as  the  officer 
was  for  spurring  forward  out  of  his  reach,  "  I  desire  a 
word  with  you,  sir." 

173 


THE    DAKK    0'    THE    MOON 

Very  unwillingly,  Captain  Dick  wheeled  about.  He  had 
upon  him  all  the  trouble  his  nerves  would  stand,  in  the 
double  fact  that  he  was  at  once  attainted  for  treason  and 
engaged  to  demand  from  the  Earl  of  Kirkham  the  hand 
of  his  daughter. 

At  the  sight  of  him,  Jasper  Jamie  reined  in  his  steed  as 
if  he  had  been  stricken  with  lightning.  Surprise,  won- 
der, mystification  coursed  through  his  mind,  and  emotion 
chased  swift  emotion  across  his  ingenuous  countenance. 

He  saw  before  him  a  face  that  (for  the  better  part  of  a 
month)  he  had  once  thought  the  loveliest  in  the  world,  a 
figure  he  had  dreamed  of  (yet  never  seen  in  such  fashion 
before),  a  pair  of  laughing,  defiant  eyes,  an  upper  lip  touch- 
ed with  dusky  down  like  to  the  markings  of  a  young  swan's 
bill.  So,  completely  bewildered,  he  blundered  as  usual  into 
audacious  speech. 

"  Good  Lord !"  he  cried ;  "  Marion  !  What  are  you  doing 
here  with  Max  Heron's  breeches  on?" 

They  were  now  approaching  the  woods  of  Greenlaw,  and 
Jasper  was  still  laboring  at  the  oar.  He  had,  by  the 
rudest  of  methods,  ousted  Captain  Dick  from  his  cavalier- 
ship  of  the  lady,  and  Sylvia,  by  no  means  insusceptible  to 
the  advantages  of  competition,  anticipated  the  good  effect 
upon  her  handsome  Captain  of  the  openly  expressed  ad- 
miration of  a  rival  wooer.  And  of  a  certainty  there  was 
no  false  modesty  about  Jasper  Jamie. 

But  his  methods  were  indeed  more  than  a  thought  crude. 
Jasper  always  tickled  his  trout  with  a  pickaxe  all  the  days 
of  him. 

"  He  is  handsome,"  said  the  Lady  Sylvia,  indicating 
Captain  Richard  over  her  shoulder  with  a  toss  of  her 
head.  And  she  had  brought  the  battery  of  her  bold  eyes  to 
bear  upon  Jasper  with  quite  as  much  good-will  as  on  Cap- 
tain Dick,  and  with  an  equal  care  in  the  shading  of  crows' 
feet. 

174 


JASPER   JAMIE    PLAYS    "CROSS-TIG" 

"  Handsome  ?  Why,  well  enough !"  cried  Jasper ; 
"  but — "    Here  he  shook  his  head  with  a  grave  warning. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  cried  Sylvia,  eagerly  taking  him 
by  the  arm. 

"  He  comes  from  France !"  said  Jasper,  with  meaning. 

"  That  is  rather  a  recommendation,  I  find,"  said  Sylvia, 
drawing  a  breath  of  relief ;  "  he  has  such  charming  tales 
to  tell  of  the  Court." 

"  Ah  V  said  Jasper  Jamie. 

"  He  knows  all  the  great  ladies  of  fashion — " 

"  And  none  of  the  gentlemen !"  said  Jasper, 

"  You  mean  to  say —  ?" 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  say  anything,"  purred  the  suggester 
of  evil,  "  but  his  tales  were  all  of  nuns  and  ladies  and  fair 
maids,  were  they  not?" 

"  All  that  had  any  particularity  in  them,  I  must  avow," 
admitted  the  Lady  Sylvia.    "  But  what  of  that?" 

"  There  is  a  sailor  proverb :  '  Many  ports,  many  wives' !" 
said  Jasper,  meaningly. 

The  I^ady  Sylvia  started,  and,  reigning  her  horse,  faced 
Jasper  Jamie. 

"You  do  not  mean  to  infer  that  Captain  Richard  is 
married  already?" 

"I  did  not  say  so,"  quoth  the  thrice  wicked  Jasper, 
"only  that  he  is  more  at  home  in  the  boudoirs  of  the 
ladies  in  France  than  in  the  quarters  of  his  mess.  A  sol- 
dier, indeed !  I  warrant  he  does  not  know  how  a  bombard 
is  horsed  on  its  way  to  a  siege,  nor  yet  can  he  distinguish 
between  scarp  and  counterscarp  in  a  fortification.  Ask 
him !" 

"But  then  I  should  not  know  whether  or  no  he  spoke 
the  truth.  And  I  would  as  lief  believe  in  him  as  you,  at 
any  rate.  Master  Jasper  !  For  why  ?  He  is  so  handsome  !" 
And  the  lady  sighed. 

"  Well,"  said  Jasper,  "  ask  him  on  which  side  of  a 
window  a  man  puts  the  looking-glass  when  he  shaves.    Bid 

175 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON^ 

him  unbutton  and  button  his  surtout;  he  will  button  it 
again,  not  on  the  right  as  a  man  doth,  but  on  the  left,  like 
a  woman.  Did  you  ever  see  him  put  on  his  hat  with- 
out a  mirror?  He  is  a  very  coxcomb,  that  hath  done 
nothing  all  his  days  but  dangle  after  and  deceive  foolish 
women !" 

"  Then  he  shall  not  deceive  me !"  cried  Sylvia,  veering 
suddenly.  "  I  am  sorry  that  ever  I  listened  to  his  lying 
tongue,  and  I  do  not  think  he  is  so  very  handsome,  after 
all !  When  one  looks  upon  a  true  man — a  real  man  of 
substance  and — and  avoirdupois — ah,  that  is  a  different 
thing !" 

Stout  Jasper  puffed  his  cheeks,  and  sat  a  little  more 
erect  in  the  saddle. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  wrong  my  friend,  not  yet  to  speak 
to  his  discredit,"  he  said,  "  but,  knowing  his  predilections 
and  customs,  I  could  not  bear  to  see  him  aspiring  to  the 
favor  of  one  so  beautiful  and  accomplished  as  the  Lady 
Sylvia  Kirkham." 

The  lady  blushed  through  the  slightly  over-permanent 
color  of  her  cheek  at  the  fervor  of  Jasper's  words. 

"  You  must  come  and  see  us  at  Kirkham,"  she  said. 
"  You  are  going  to  be  a  lawyer  at  the  Parliament  House, 
I  hear.  Ah !  I  will  speak  to  my  father ;  he  has  much  in- 
fluence with  my  Lord  Advocate.  He  will  do  anything  for 
your  advancement  in — ah,  the  government  interest." 

"  I  am  infinitely  obliged,"  said  Jasper,  gravely. 

"  You  will  stay  meanwhile  at  Greenlaw,"  said  the  Lady 
Sylvia.  "  I  had  intended  to  go  farther,  but  now  I  shall 
remain  here.    You  must  positively  stay  with  me." 

"■'  I  am  sorry  that  I  do  not  know  the  Lady  Grace  Gordon," 
said  Jasper,  promptly:  "and,  besides,  Mr.  Heron  of  Rathan 
put  his  wife  and  daughter  in  my  care  till  the  completion 
of  this  journey." 

'*'  In  that  case  you  must  come  to  Kirkham  as  soon  as 
possible  after  your  return,"  she  answered,  with  her  hand 

176 


JASPEE    JAMIE    PLAYS    "CROSS-TIG" 

on  his  arm.  "  Then  we  will  wander  in  happy  converse  by 
the  babbling  brooks  and  commune  together  beneath  the 
moon's  pale  ray." 

"  I  shall  live  for  that  happy  moment,"  said  Jasper 
Jamie,  aloud.  But  to  himself  he  said :  "  I  wish  Grisel  had 
taken  my  double  or  quits.    But  we  shall  see." 

So,  just  because  that  young  lard-barrel  Jasper  dealt 
thus  with  my  character,  the  Lady  Sylvia  abode  at  the  new 
house  of  Greenlaw,  and  only  these  four  rode  northward 
upon  their  quest — to  wit,  Mistress  Heron  of  Isle  Eathan, 
Grisel  her  daughter,  Jasper  Jamie,  and,  in  scarlet  and 
gold,  Captain  Dick  of  the  handsome  face  and  the  sorely 
damaged  reputation. 

When  they  were  going  the  Lady  Sylvia  drew  Jasper 
aside. 

"  I  can  never  be  sufficiently  grateful  to  you,"  she  said ; 
"  you  have  saved  me  from  a  villain !  When  my  Lady 
Grace  offered  him  her  own  serving-man  to  wait  upon  him 
and  sleep  in  his  anteroom  (the  house  being  so  full),  he 
replied  '  that  he  was  only  accustomed  to  women  about 
him.'  A  roue!  A  manifest  villain,  who  makes  it  his 
business  to  go  about  inveigling  foolish  and  innocent  young 
hearts !" 

But  all  the  same,  as  they  rode  away  the  Lady  Sylvia 
sighed,  and  confided  to  her  hostess,  "  It  is  a  pity,  for,  after 
all,  he  is  so  handsome !" 

"  That  is  just  it,"  said  the  Lady  Grace  Gordon,  who 
had  a  celebrity  for  plain-speaking  which  she  felt  bound  to 
keep  up;  "old  women  like  you  and  me,  Sylvia,  cannot 
afford  handsome  young  husbands  with  the  reputations  of 
rakes.  For  my  part,  I  do  not  believe  a  word  the  fat  youth 
said ;  but,  all  the  same,  if  you  must  catch  'em  young,  you 
would  be  safer  with  him  than  with  any  handsome  Captain 
Dick  new  landed  from  France." 

"  But  his  father  is  a  painter,"  sighed  the  Lady  Sylvia. 
12  177 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

"  Well,  I  do  not  think  that  you,  at  least,  can  afford  to 
cast  stones  at  that  profession !"  quoth  the  apostle  of  plain 
speech. 

Upon  which  the  Lady  Sylvia  blushed  through  her  rouge 
and  was  silent. 


XXVI 

THE    FIRE    OF    GOD 

DISMAL  and  bitter  as  were  the  thoughts  which  coursed 
like  a  mill-race  through  my  heart  as  I  rode  southward 
over  the  Flower  of  Craigencailzie,  those  with  which  Joyce 
Faa  accompanied  her  companion  were  darker  and  more 
bitter  still. 

Bitter  remorse  for  opportunity  lost,  love  slighted,  anger 
against  destiny,  contempt  of  self — these  were  no  pleasant 
journeying  cojnpanions,  and  they  were  mine. 

But  Joyce  Faa  looked  forward  to  a  life  to  be  spent  with 
a  murderous  desperado — one  of  her  own  race,  truly,  but 
a  thousand  leagues  from  her  in  education,  feeling,  manners. 

Nevertheless,  with  the  instinct  of  the  gypsy  woman,  she 
followed  him  without  complaint,  taking  as  part  of  her  duty 
the  great  "  kent,"  or  leaping-pole,  with  which  they  must 
cross  the  slow-running  "  lanes  "  of  water  on  their  way  to 
the  distant  home  which  Harry  Polwart  had  provided  for  his 
wife. 

The  morn  had  broken  wild  and  uncertain,  a  drift  of  slaty 
blue  clouds  edged  with  white  shouldering  up  from  the 
southwest,  low  across  the  landscape.  There  was  not  much 
wind,  but  the  clouds  drew  down  upon  the  mountains,  and 
far  in  the  west  there  was  the  occasional  growl  of  thunder 
like  a  ruffle  of  drums. 

Joyce  heeded  not,  a  physical  callousness,  the  reaction 
after  vehement  emotion,  taking  for  the  time  being  com- 
plete possession  of  her.    She  followed  as  in  a  dream.    The 

179 


THE     DAEK    0'     THE     MOON 

tall,  hawk-faeed  young  gypsy  stepped  out  across  the 
heather,  keeping  to  the  southward  of  the  great  valley  of 
Glen  Trool.  He  had  his  course  accurately  marked,  and 
after  passing  Loch  Dee,  he  bore  away  up  the  side  of  Curley- 
wee,  the  peewits  scattering  and  whinnying  before  him  as 
he  went.  He  followed  a  little  stream  which  came  down  the 
mountain,  dispersing  its  waters  into  spray  a  dozen  times, 
again  collecting  them,  apparently  undiminished  in  volume, 
sending  them  to  sleep  in  half  a  score  of  shallow  lakelets 
and  one  deep  unruffled  tarn,  and  finally  in  one  great  white 
spout  of  foam,  dropping  itself  into  the  valley  far  below. 

Without  a  word  spoken  on  either  side,  Joyce  and  her 
companion  took  this  goat's  track  up  the  mountain-side. 
They  were  just  on  the  border  lands  of  Lamachan  and 
Curlywee.  Above  them  the  blue  thunder-clouds  streamed 
eastward  at  a  uniform  height  along  the  side  of  the  huge 
precipitous  ridge  of  Bennanbrack.  Up,  up  they  went, 
Joyce  scarce  wondering  whither  they  were  going,  but 
blindly  obeying,  and  in  a  certain  sick  and  weary-hearted 
way  glad  to  obey,  if  only  to  do  anything,  and  to  keep  on 
doing  it. 

Harry  Polwart  did  not  slacken  his  speed  till  the  stagnant 
airs  of  the  valley  began  to  give  place  to  an  occasional  puff 
of  icy  wind  blown  downward  from  above.  He  was  march- 
ing right  upward  into  the  thunder-cloud.  Joyce  felt  more 
than  once  the  sting  of  hail  in  her  face.  Suddenly  a 
whitish-gray  tongue  of  cloud  came  rushing  towards  them, 
at  sight  of  which  the  gypsy  uttered  a  warning  cry,  and 
Joyce  caught  at  a  projecting  corner  of  rock  which  gave 
under  her  hand. 

In  a  moment  the  gypsy  had  sprung  to  her  side,  and 
pulled  her  down  behind  a  huge  bowlder,  which,  after 
sliding  thus  far,  had  remained  perilously  poised  on  the 
mountain-side.  He  put  his  arm  about  Joyce  and  forced 
her  into  the  most  interior  crevice  of  the  rock,  standing  in 
front  of  her.     The  threatening  arm  reached  out  as  if  to 

180 


THE    FIEE    OF    GOD 

snatch  them  from  their  refuge.  As  it  came  nearer,  Joyce 
saw  a  funnel-shaped  cloud,  its  point  spinning  like  a  top 
along  the  mountain-side.  It  rushed  upon  them.  The  next 
moment,  with  a  tremendous  explosion  of  sound  and  a 
blinding  pale-blue  light,  the  world  seemed  to  end,  and 
the  heart  of  Joyce  Faa  gave  a  bound  of  thankfulness.  God 
had  surely  heard  her  prayer.  The  end  was  come !  The 
thunderboU  had  smitten  them  both! 

But  the  next  instant,  against  the  rushing  steam-vapors  of 
the  cloud,  Joyce  saw  the  figure  of  Harry  the  Gypsy  stand 
out  with  a  certain  wild  nobility.  His  hands  were  out- 
stretched, and  as  it  were  striking  palm-forward  against 
some  imminent  horror.  The  great  bowlder  behind  which 
they  stood  had  disappeared  in  a  wild  debris  of  fragments, 
chips,  and  granite  dust.  The  ground  was  torn  up  in  all 
directions — here  in  great  gashes  as  if  a  gigantic  plough- 
share had  passed  that  way;  there,  in  a  myriad  of  shallow 
tunnels,  apparently  as  purposeless  and  wandering  as  mole 
runs.  There  was  a  smell  of  powder  everywhere  that  made 
Joyce  gasp  and  catch  her  breath,  and  beneath  her,  on  the 
next  slope,  the  heather  was  on  fire. 

Meanwhile  Harry  Polwart  was  standing  with  his  hands 
now  pressed  to  his  eyes,  now  driven  out,  in  angry  protests 
against  God  and  destiny. 

"  I  am  blind,  Joyce !"  he  cried,  in  agony.  "  God's  truth, 
I  cannot  see!  Tell  me  that  it  is  dark,  Joyce — surely  it  is 
very  dark !" 

Yet,  nevertheless,  as  if  to  stand  between  her  and  danger, 
he  kept  his  place  in  front  of  her,  so  that  she  had  perforce 
to  remain  yet  awhile  in  the  cleft  of  the  rock  where  he  had 
placed  her. 

For,  to  do  him  justice,  the  man  was  true  in  love,  and 
wholly  without  fear. 

Joyce  put  out  her  hand,  being  stricken  with  sudden  pity, 
and  drew  the  blinded  man  back  into  the  covert,  where  they 
crouched  close  together.     She  saw  him  by  the  constant 

181 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOOT^ 

white  and  lilac  flick-flach  of  the  lightning  ilashes.  His 
face  seemed  to  be  seared  an  ugly  white,  white  as  bleached 
bone,  and  his  sightless  eyes  rolled  ghastly  and  large  this 
way  and  that. 

For  Harry  Polwart,  who  a  few  hours  before  had  led  us 
through  the  meshes  of  the  moss  hags  in  the  darkness  of 
midnight,  now  stood  blind,  groping,  and  trembling  like  a 
frightened  steed.  For  the  finger  of  God  had  touched  him 
suddenly. 

He  could  not  even  see  the  ripples  of  fire  that  played 
level  all  about  them,  running  from  scarlet  and  lavender 
upon  the  leonine  haunches  of  Curlywee  to  blinding  and 
burning  opal  as  the  flame  ran  along  the  ragged  cloud  edges 
beneath  the  ridge  of  Bennanbrack. 

A  constant  rattle  of  falling  stones  accompanied  the 
storm  as  the  thunderbolts  shot  every  way  along  the  moun- 
tain-side. Every  moment's  safety  seemed  to  Joyce  a 
miracle;  and  Harry  Polwart,  like  a  child  in  fear  of  the 
dark,  caught  at  her  hand  and  nursed  it  to  his  side,  saying, 
over  and  over,  "  You  will  not  leave  me  now,  Joyce !  You 
will  keep  your  promise?" 

"  I  will  keep  my  promise,"  she  answered ;  and  he  heard 
her  even  amid  the  loudest  roaring  of  the  storm,  yet  was 
not  satisfied. 

"  Promise  me,  Joyce !  I  am  blind !  I  cannot  see  you, 
or  follow  you !  But  you  will  keep  your  word  to  Harry  the 
Gypsy,  who  dared  death  and  kept  his  word  to  you  ?" 

"  I  have  said  it,"  answered  Joyce  Faa. 

The  thunder-storm  was  a  long  one,  and  did  not  move 
with  the  wind.  It  seemed  rather  to  hang  heavily  between 
the  hills  about  the  head  of  the  great  glens,  venting  itself 
after  a  while,  not  in  short,  sharp,  frequent  explosions,  but 
rather  in  long  brooding  silences,  which  were  followed  by 
tremendous  outbursts  of  sound  and  flame. 

And  through  the  aching  silences  Harry  Polwart,  the 
gypsy,  spoke  his  heart  into  the  car  of  Joyce  Faa. 

182 


THE    FIRE    OF    GOD 

"  I  have  loved  you,  Joyce — ever  since  your  father  brought 
you,  a  little  white  maid,  from  the  foreign  ship.  It  was  I 
who  made  you  rush-baskets,  woven  from  the  spretty  bogs. 
I  swam  in  to  bring  you  water-lilies.  I  scoured  the  hills  to 
find  you  birds'  eggs.  I  was  with  you  night  and  day.  Then 
you  went  to  France,  and  when  you  came  back  it  was  (as  I 
knew  it  would  be)  a  different  Joyce.  But  you  had  grown 
tall  and  beautiful — a  true  gypsy  maid ;  and,  though  I  had 
not  your  learning,  nor  your  foreign  ways,  I  loved  you  a 
thousandfold  more  than  before.  And  when  this  young 
man.  Maxwell  Heron,  came — so  like  a  woman,  with  -his 
love-locks,  and  his  talk  of  books  and  men  and  cities,  all 
that  you  knew  and  I  did  not — I  swore  an  oath  that  if  I 
was  not  for  you,  he  at  least  should  not  have  you  while 
steel  would  kill  or  water  drown !" 

"  But  if  you  hated  him,  why  did  you  not  let  my  father 
slay  him  ?"  said  Joyce,  speaking  for  the  first  time. 

Harry  Polwart  passed  a  hand  across  his  brow  as  if  to 
clear  his  brain. 

For  that  he  had  a  reason,  too,  if  only  he  cpuld  remember 
it. 

"  And  what  would  that  have  advantaged  me  ?"  he  said. 
"  You  would  have  been  no  nearer  me.  But  I  made  this 
bargain  with  you,  for  I  knew  that  you  loved  him :  *  Your 
life  for  his!'  I  said.  I  would  save  him,  you  should  give 
yourself  to  me.  A  fair  bargain,  clearly  understood  between 
us,  was  it  not?  And  now,  though  I  never  again  see  the 
light  of  the  sun  or  of  your  eyes,  you  will  keep  your  part, 
Joyce,  even  as  I,  Harry  Polwart,  have  kept  mine  ?" 

"  I  have  told  you  that  I  would  keep  my  promise,"  said 
Joyce  Faa,  still  letting  him  hold  her  hand. 

"  Then  you  will  take  me  to  the  Manse  of  Minnigaff,  and 
there  the  minister  will  marry  us.  For  not  otherwise  will 
I  be  wed  to  you,  Joyce  Faa,  but  even  as  was  your  own 
choice  when  your  father  would  have  given  you  to  the 
young  laird's  son !" 

183 


THE    DARK    0'     THE     MOON 

The  storm  passed  away  as  it  had  come,  with  scattering 
peals,  a  dying  flicker  of  lightning  far  away  to  the  east,  and 
gusts  of  cold  wet  wind  that  rumbled  about  the  rock  clefts 
and  soughed  eerily  through  the  deep  glens  on  the  flanks  of 
Cairnsmuir. 

All  about  them  there  was  the  glimmering  haze,  which  is 
the  rain  driven  into  spray  as  it  danced  off  the  bowlders 
and  was  exhaled  from  the  soaked  and  sodden  heather. 

In  this  fashion,  hand  in  hand,  Joyce  Faa  and  the  blind 
gypsy  took  their  way  towards  the  Manse  of  Minnigaff, 
where  that  very  day  another  bridegroom  was  to  have  stood 
up  beside  her. 


XXVII 
DEVIL'S    WORK 

IT  was  part  of  the  strange  ordering  of  events  that  at 
the  exact  moment  when  I  was  breasting  the  last  brae 
which  leads  to  Orraland,  upon  the  gray  horse  which  my 
gypsy  guide  had  borrowed  for  me  at  Craigencailzie,  Joyce 
and  Harry  Polwart  were  descending  the  slopes  of  Cairns- 
muir  towards  the  Manse  of  Minnigaff,  and  my  mother's 
relief  expedition  had  passed  the  Fleet  and  was  riding 
slowly  towards  the  noblest  cliffs  that  line  the  shores  of 
Solway. 

Jasper  and  my  mother  led  the  way,  for  she  had  recovered 
all  her  hopefulness  and  gracious  humors  so  soon  as  the 
party  was  rid  of  the  Lady  Sylvia.  Indeed,  the  whole  party 
were  in  other  spirits,  and  though  Jasper  had  been  unable 
as  yet  to  bring  the  faithless  Grisel  to  count  and  reckoning, 
he  looked  confidently  forward  to  evening,  as  being  the  time 
when  such  debts  are  most  amicably  and  satisfactorily 
settled. 

The  King's  officer  and  Grisel  came  behind,  their  eyes 
upon  each  other,  almost  like  the  eyes  of  lovers.  And  a  pair 
of  lovers  well-mated  they  appeared  to  the  on-lookers,  so 
that  the  good-wives  of  the  Gatehouse  nodded  approvingly 
as  they  rode  through,  and  said,  "  It  is  evidently  a  settled 
thing  atween  thae  two  \" 

Grisel  and  her  companion  were  upon  that  pretty  wooded 
elbow  of  path  which  meanders  round  by  Eutherford's 
ancient  kirk,  when  there  befell  one  of  those  chances  which 

185 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

make  a  story  worth  the  telling.  For  if  we  had  the  making 
of  our  own  lives,  as  men  skilled  in  the  trade  make  a  tale 
to  be  read,  they  would  never  be  interesting  enough  to 
relate.  It  is  men's  disasters,  rather  than  their  successes, 
which  interest  the  world. 

Now  Grisel  Heron  and  this  handsome  Captain  Dick  were 
taking  their  horses  slowly  under  a  green  roof  of  leaves. 
The  cushie-doves  coo-rooed  in  the  silence.  There  was  the 
sweetness  in  the  air  which  only  comes  after  thunder,  when 
the  heavens  are  cleaned  down  of  their  cobwebs,  and  a 
breath  from  somewhere  beyond  the  blue  blows  over  all  the 
face  of  the  world. 

As  they  came  round  a  corner  suddenly  they  were  stopped 
by  the  words  of  a  woman's  beseeching.  A  cottage  had  been 
unroofed  and  the  doors  and  windows  carried  away.  A  pile 
of  furniture,  still  dripping  with  the  rain  of  the  morning, 
lay  piled  up  by  the  way-side. 

A  little  back  from  the  path  stood  the  torn  and  dis- 
membered fragments  of  a  byre,  the  stalls  still  fairly  com- 
plete. But  the  mangers  were  empty,  and  a  hayrack  above 
had  a  hole  driven  through  it  by  a  man's  foot,  from  which 
a  wisp  of  straw  hung  down  forlornly.  A  stable  also  there 
was  a  little  in  the  rear,  but  all  equally  ruined  and  desolate. 

An  old  man  stood  with  his  hands  clasping  and  unclasp- 
ing each  other  in  front  of  him,  and  his  forehead  leaning 
against  the  cold  stones  of  the  gable.  Beside  him,  with  one 
hand  laid  pleadingly  upon  his  shoulder,  was  a  woman  of 
a  like  age.  The  old  man  was  sobbing  like  a  child,  deaf  and 
blind  to  the  world. 

"  Oh,  the  bonny  bit !  Oh,  the  heartsome — that  was  my 
faither's  an'  my  faither's  faither's!  There  was  the  verra 
winnock-sole  where  my  mither  set  my  parritch  to  cool 
afore  I  should  eat  them  in  the  summer  nichts !  There  is 
the  rockin'-chair  wherein  she  nursed  us  a',  and  where  I 
set  you,  my  Nanny,  the  nicht  I  brocht  ye  hame." 

"  Guidman  !  guidman !" — his  wife's  voice  was  gentle  and 
186 


DEVIL'S    WORK 

comfortable  in  his  ear — "  dinna  quarrel  wi'  the  Lord ! 
Dinna  fecht  again  His  wull,  Tammas !  For  we  hae  had 
mony  mercies,  you  and  me,  a  canny  bairn-time,  a  hame 
bien  an'  comfortable  for  forty  year — a  heartsome  hearth- 
stane — " 

"  Na,  na,  Nanny,"  said  the  old  man,  lifting  his  head 
and  trying  to  smile,  "  dinna  fear — I'se  no  quarrel  wi'  the 
Almichty !  But  ye  see  I  am  nane  that  sure  that  He  has 
had  ony  hand  in  this.  It's  mair  like  to  deil's  wark — this 
rivin'  up  o'  hearthstanes,  and  tearin'  doon  o'  roof-trees 
that  the  laird's  sheep  and  black  nowt  beasts  may  get  their 
bite  and  sup,  where  the  bairns  played  and  the  joes  coorted 
thegither  at  e'en.  Mony  a  score  o'  ingle-nooks  are  as  deso- 
late as  this  o'  yours  an'  mine,  Nanny,  just  that  young 
Allister  Mure  may  bigg  anither  too'er  to  Cassencairy  and 
hae  siller  to  spend  amang  the  great  folk  i'  London  toon !" 

"  Devils'  work,  indeed !"  cried  Marion  of  the  Isle,  who, 
with  a  wave  of  her  hand  had  imposed  silence  upon  her 
companion  as  they  sat  their  horses  and  listened  to  this 
colloquy,  "  for  who  but  devils  would  so  pluck  up  by  the 
roots  a  goodly  tree  that  hath  flourished  here  for  genera- 
tions.   By  whose  order  is  this  done  ?" 

The  old  couple  turned,  and  regarded  with  surprise  the 
handsome  youth  who  spoke.  But  suspicion  instantly 
clouded  faces  which  had  momentarily  brightened  at  the 
sound  of  sympathetic  words. 

"  I  am  not  what  I  seem,"  cried  Marion,  forgetting  every- 
thing in  her  anger.  "  I  wear  the  coat  of  a  soldier,  it  is 
true,  but  my  heart  fights  for  the  rights  and  liberties  of 
the  poor  folk  of  Galloway !" 

"  Ye  are  indeed  unco  braw  to  take  part  with  men  ruined 
and  dispossessed,"  said  the  old  man,  "  though  I  dare  say  ye 
mean  weel.  But  there  is  little  ye  can  do  for  the  like  o' 
us.  The  cadger's  poke  and  the  cauld  wat  bed  ahint  the 
dyke  are  to  be  our  portion  till  we  die !  But  I  judge  that 
it  will  no  be  lang !    The  lord  grant  it  sae !" 

187 


THE    DAEK    0'    TPIE     MOON 

"  Perhaps  I  can  do  more  for  you  than  that,"  said  Cap- 
tain Dick.    "  But  what  have  we  here  ?" 

A  company  of  horsemen  swept  up  to  the  ruined  cottage 
at  a  rattling  trot. 

"What!  not  out  of  this  yet,  you  infamous  old  rebel?" 
cried  a  slim  dark  youth  in  the  regimentals  of  junior  officer. 

"  Be  quiet,  Theo !"  said  another  officer,  a  man  of  forty 
or  thereby,  with  a  mustache  touched  with  premature  gray, 
and  keen  gray  eyes  looking  out  under  the  stiff  dragoon's 
crest  which  decorated  his  helmet.  "  You  are  inclined  to 
be  over-hasty,  sir.  Besides,  you  are  not  in  command  here, 
pray  remember  that !" 

"  This  is  indeed  pretty  work  for  officers  and  gentlemen !" 
cried  Marion,  riding  forward,  her  indignation  getting  the 
better  of  her  discretion.  "  'Tis,  indeed,  something  safer 
than  fighting  the  King's  enemies  in  the  Low  Countries !" 

The  soldiers  turned  round  with  great  surprise,  for  the 
overhanging  trees  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road,  and 
their  haste,  had  prevented  them  seeing  Grisel  and  her 
companion  till  now. 

"  Ah  !  whom  have  we  here  ?"  cried  the  younger — he 
whom  his  brother-officer  had  called  Theo ;  "  Fair  Mistress 
Grisel  Heron,  and — Heaven  help  us!  a  Dumfries  Fencible 
rigged  out  all  as  trig  as  a  stage-lancer,  with  his  hair  curled 
as  point-device,  and  none-so-pretty  as  a  stick  barley-sugar 
wrapped  in  a  silver  paper !  And  he  dares  to  stand  in  the 
way  of  his  i\lajesty's  forces  doing  their  duty !  Your  name 
and  rank,  sir?" 

"  I  have  as  much  right  to  demand  yours !"  retorted 
Marion.  "  I  ride  upon  my  occasions,  and  am  not  liable 
to  interrogatories  upon  the  highway  !" 

"  Nor  are  men  doing  their  duty  liable  to  such  comments 
as  you  indulged  in  a  moment  ago,  young  sir,"  said  the 
elder  man,  gravely.  He  had  never  taken  his  eyes  off 
]\Iarion's  face. 

"  This  is  my  brother  Richard,  lately  home  from  France, 
188 


DEVIL'S    WORK 

Ensign  Gunter,"  said  Grisel,  sharply.  "  I  pray  you  par- 
don him,  for  he  is  yet  ignorant  of  many  things  here  in  his 
native  country,  and,  besides,  is  apt  to  speak  over-hastily." 

"  Your  pardon.  Mistress  Grisel,"  said  the  young  man, 
"  but  if  that  be  so,  why  does  your  brother  Richard  wear 
your  brother  Max's  clothes  while  he  is  still  in  the  hands 
of  the  outlaws — as  I  hear?" 

"  Why,  as  to  that,  'tis  a  plot  of  my  mother's,"  said 
Grisel,  readily.  "  She  has  an  idea  of  effecting  Max's  libera- 
tion by  that  means." 

"But  how?    In  what  fashion ?" 

"  That,"  said  Grisel,  mysteriously,  "  is  a  secret  which  I 
have  promised  not  to  tell." 

And  it  was  certainly  a  promise  easy  enough  to  keep,  for 
the  young  lady  had  not  the  remotest  idea  of  how  Captain 
Richard  Heron's  wearing  of  ex-Captain  j\Iaxwell  Heron's 
clothes  was  to  deliver  the  latter  from  captivity. 

Nevertheless,  such  was  the  repute  of  my  mother  in  the 
Stewardry  for  freakish  doings  that  Grisel  could  observe 
young  Gunter  leaning  over  to  whisper  the  jest  to  his  su- 
perior officer,  who  slightly  smiled  and  nodded. 

"  Enough,"  cried  the  latter,  saluting  Grisel,  "  let  us  pro- 
ceed.   We  have  other  work  to  do." 

He  turned  to  the  old  couple,  who  had  been  standing 
silent  listening  to  the  colloquy. 

"  It  is  my  orders  that  you  have  till  sundown  to  clear  all 
your  possessions  off  the  lands  of  Mr.  Anthony  Mure  of 
Cassencary. 

The  old  man  raised  his  bonnet  politely,  with  a  certain 
air  of  austere  dignity  and  respect  for  law. 

"  You  but  follow  your  commission,  sir,"  he  said.  "  In 
that  I  do  not  blame  you.  But  all  my  property — and  it  is 
not  much — I  have  already  removed  furth  of  the  bounds  of 
Anthony  Mure's  properties." 

'•'  But  it  lies  on  the  King's  highway !"  cried  the  young 
man  Theo,  furiously.    "  You  are  an  old  rebel,  and  I  doubt 

189 


THE    DAEK    0*    THE    MOON 

not  were  heart  and  part  in  the  muster  at  Eascarrel !  I 
tell  you,  if  you  and  all  your  possessions  are  not  clear  of 
the  bounds  of  the  parish  by  six  o'clock  this  evening,  I  will 
take  a  file  of  men  and  burn  every  rag  and  stick  I  find  on 
this  spot !    Now,  I  have  warned  you !" 

"  You  will  do  no  such  thing  so  long  as  you  are  under  my 
orders !"  said  the  elder  man,  turning  upon  him  sternly. 

The  youth  curled  his  lip. 

"  Thank  Heaven !"  he  retorted,  "  I  am  not  in  your  com- 
pany, and  if  you  are  too  stiff  in  the  stock,  Austin,  to  lend 
me  a  corporal's  file — faith !  I  can  get  a  half-dozen  game- 
watchers — fellows  who  will  ask  no  questions,  but  have  this 
rubbish  heap  blazing  in  twenty  shakes  of  a  cow's  tail — ay, 
and  some  of  these  pullets  roasting  merrily  above  it  for  their 
own  suppers,  too !" 

During  these  amenities,  the  face  of  Marion  of  the  Isle 
had  passed  through  a  score  of  changes — shame  for  the 
masquerade  dress  in  which  she  had  perforce  to  appear  in 
serious  affairs  and  in  the  eye  of  day,  anger  and  scorn  of 
the  destroyers  of  ancient  peace  and  humble  well-doing, 
consciousness  of  her  own  impotence,  and  (above  all)  con- 
cern for  what  she  might  bring  upon  her  companions  by  her 
rashness. 

Nevertheless,  she  could  not  deny  herself  a  last  word. 

"  I  can  only  hope  that  your  further  work  is  of  a  more 
reputable  sort  than  this,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  broken 
chair  which  lay  on  the  top  of  the  pile. 

"  That  is  no  more  our  work  than  yours,  young  sir,"  re- 
turned the  olTicer.  "  We  are  neither  sheriff's  officers  nor 
yet  bailiffs.  So  we  can  well  spare  your  comments.  If  you 
have  any  right  to  the  coat  you  wear,  you  are  aware  that 
the  first  duty  of  a  soldier  is  to  obey  his  instructions  with- 
out query  or  question,  and  also  that  I  have  power  to  order 
you  under  arrest  for  your  words.  I  choose  rather,  how- 
ever, to  waive  my  rank  and  official  errand  here,  and  to 
say  that  if  you  or  any  man  have  aught  to  urge  against 

190 


DEVIL'S   WORK 

me  or  my  actions,  my  name  is  Austin  Tredennis,  Captain 
in  Ligonier's  Horse,  and  that  I  shall  not  stand  upon  my 
rights  as  to  choice  of  weapons !  I  wish  you  a  very  good- 
day,  sir,  and  to  you,  madame,  my  humble  service !" 

He  bowed  to  Grisel,  waved  his  hand,  and  presently,  with 
unanimous  clatter  of  accoutrement,  the  squadron  was  gone. 

''  That  man  is  a  man !"  murmured  Marion  of  the  Isle, 
thoughtfully,  as  she  looked  after  them. 


XXVIII 
THE   MANSE    OF   MINNIGAFF 

THERE  are  few  fairer  spots  by  nature  on  the  face  of 
this  land  of  the  Scots  than  the  site  of  the  Manse  of 
Minnigaff.  It  is,  indeed,  a  mere  outpost  of  a  vast  rear- 
ward territory  of  parish,  but  it  sits  with  some  coquetry  on  a 
pleasant  knoll  looking  down  on  the  waters  of  the  Cree 
through  a  wilderness  of  birch  and  alder  copses.  It  is 
(or  rather  was,  when  these  things  happened)  a  little  low 
dwelling  of  three  chambers  and  a  garret,  all  covered  down 
tightly  with  a  nightcap  of  thatch  pulled  close  about  its 
ears.  The  minister,  Mr.  Hugh  Penpont,  was  considered 
a  prop  of  orthodoxy  in  these  wavering  times,  and,  more- 
over, was  a  man  keenly  alive  to  his  interests  in  both  worlds, 
for  no  man  in  all  the  whole  Presbytery  knew  better  how 
to  harmonize  the  moral  law  and  the  commandments  of  the 
heritors. 

Mr.  Penpont  Avas  writing  his  sermon,  and  had  advanced 
to  "  seventeenthly  "  in  the  elucidation  of  the  city  of  Jeri- 
cho, considered  as  a  type  of  the  Popish  and  Prelatical  Kirk 
which,  till  the  never-to-be-sufficiently  lauded  Eevolution 
had  lorded  it  over  the  heritage  of  the  saints,  when  a  yet 
more  revolutionary  thing  happened  to  him.  Greg  Payter- 
son,  the  minister's  "  man,"  beadle,  and  general  reporter  of 
all  the  ill  and  well  doing  of  the  parish,  rushed  in  with 
the  intelligence  that  "  thae  gypsy  folk  had  comed  to  get 
mairried,  juist  themsel's  two — an'  nae  Hector  Faa  wi' 
them  ava' !" 

192 


THE    MANSE    OF    MINNIGAFF 

'"  Gin  I  war  you,  minister,"  advised  Greg,  with  his  usual 
freedom,  "  I  wadna  gie  them  either  prayer  or  benison,  the 
ill-contrived,  thievin'  blasties — " 

"  Greg,"  said  the  minister,  pausing  with  his  pen  between 
his  fingers,  "  it's  little  that  you  ken  o'  the  responsibilities 
o'  a  public  man — " 

"  And  pray  ye,  minister,"  said  the  offended  Greg,  "  wha 
is  a  public  man  if  it  be  na  the  kirk  officer  o'  the  parish  o' 
Minnigaff,  I  wad  like  to  ken?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  I  dare  say,"  said  the  minister,  pacifically,  for 
being  dependent  on  Greg  for  the  most  part  of  his  gossip,  he 
did  not  choose  to  quarrel  with  him  at  such  a  crisis ;  "  but 
yet  ken  that  gin  we  offend  thae  savage  folk  o'  the  hills, 
there's  aye  Hector  Faa  himsel'  to  reckon  wi',  and,  mair 
nor  that.  Silver  Sand,  forbye.  And  though  he  has  won 
wonderfu'  far  ben  wi'  the  great  o'  the  land,  he  is  aye  a 
gypsy,  when  a'  is  said  an'  dune !  But  tell  me,  Greg,  what 
like  are  they?" 

"  To  tell  ye  Guid's  truth,  minister,  the  lass  is  no  that 
unfaceable-like  ava — I  micht  hae  ta'en  a  notion  o'  her  my- 
sel' — a  comely  quean,  an'  baud's  her  head  high.  But  the 
gypsy  loon — Lord  keep  us  ! — he's  a  gashly  sicht.  I  kenna 
whether  the  vengeance  o'  the  Almichty  has  fa'en  on  him 
or  whether  he  was  born  to  this  heritage.  But  I  never  saw 
onything  like  him.  Yet  the  lass  leads  him  by  the  hand  as 
cannily  and  couthily  as  if  he  were  a'  her  care." 

"  And  where  hae  ye  left  them  a'  this  time  ?"  asked  the 
minister,  toying  with  his  quill  and  dotting  the  i's  of 
"  seventeenthly  "  lightly  and  with  a  loving  touch. 

"  They  are  juist  on  the  road  there  oot  bye !"  said  the 
minister's  man ;  "  d'ye  think  I  wad  let  two  wandering  do- 
nae-gaids  aff  the  heather  hae  the  run  o'  my  kitchen,  or 
gang  into  your  benroom  where  ye  keep  your  bulks  and 
silver,  forbye  the  sonsy  graybeard  o'  undutied  brandy  that 
ye  hae  laid  awa'  for  your  winter  boasts — " 

"  There,  Greg,  I  hae  telled  ve  oft  and  oft  that  ye  will  be 
13  193 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

the  daith  o'  me !  Ye  want  me  to  get  a  jag  in  the  ribs  frae 
Hector  Faa's  jockteleg.  ]\[aybe  ye  wad  get  a  kinder 
maister !  To  keep  them  standin'  there !  Them  that  Hector 
Faa  sent  to  tryst  me  to  mairry !  Fetch  them  ben  this 
minute,  I  order  ye,  and  offer  them  cake  an'  wine !  Hear 
me,  Greg !" 

Greg  Payterson  went  out  obediently,  muttering  only 
under  his  breath,  "  Cake  an'  wine,  indeed,  to  wild  hill 
gypsies  !  Set  them  up  !  I'm  thinking  scones  and  tippenny 
sma'  ale  will  hae  to  serve  them !" 

Thus  the  first  of  the  three  parties  which  (all  unknown 
to  him)  were  converging  upon  Mr.  Hugh  Penpont's  manse 
had  arrived,  and  stood  on  the  road-way  waiting  Greg  Pay- 
terson's  pleasure. 

There  had  been  little  talk  between  Joyce  and  her  lover 
as  they  descended  the  long  green  valley  of  the  Penkill, 
leaving  the  great  open  hill  pastures,  and  passing  through 
benty  bottoms,  where  the  burn,  dammed  by  some  fallen- 
in  "  rickle  o'  stanes,"  had  turned  a  score  of  acres  into  a 
swamp.  Finally,  emerging  from  the  rough  country  of 
the  hills,  they  passed  the  little  park  enclosures  of  Pulgap 
and  Cumloden,  climbed  the  manse  brae  and  stood  before 
Greg  Payterson. 

The  reception  they  met  with  we  know. 

Meantime,  our  four  adventurers  of  the  Rathan  expedi- 
tion were  riding  along  the  plain  King's  highway  by  the 
Ferry  Town  of  Cree.  They  had  reached  Clashdookie,  and 
my  mother  was  explaining  to  Jasper  Jamie  the  inwardness 
of  the  word,  and  implying  that  his  varied  imperfections 
were  to  be  set  down  to  ignorance  and  neglect  of  oppor- 
tunities on  the  part  of  his  tutors  and  governors,  when  all 
of  a  sudden  she  clapped  her  hands,  and  cried,  "  I  declare 
I  never  thought  o'  it  till  this  minute !  We  juist  canna  pass 
the  door  o'  my  auld  frien'  Hughie  Penpont  withoot  a  hand- 
shake !" 

194 


TPIE    MANSE    OF    MINNIGAFF 

"Is  it  that  Hugh  Penpont  who  never  married  for  the 
sake  of  you,  mother  mine?''"  said  Grisel,  who  knew  many 
things  and  guessed  others. 

"  Havers — just  your  faither's  silly  havers !"  cried  the 
mistress  of  Eathan,  well  pleased.  "  When  ye  are  aulder 
and  wiser,  and  hae  a  guidman  o'  your  ain,  ye  will  ken  that 
the  men-folk  aye  like  to  think  ither  men  wad  hae  gi'en 
their  e'en  and  front  teeth  for  what  they  themsel's  gat  for 
the  asking.    And  your  faither  is  juist  like  the  lave !" 

"But  it  is  true,  is  it  not,  mother?"  persisted  Grrisel, 
"  Hugh  Penpont  was  a  sweetheart  of  yours  when  you  were 
young  ?" 

"  \Yhen  I  was  young,  lassie !"  cried  my  mother,  feeling 
the  smooth  full  under-curve,  which  she  always  denied  was 
a  double  chin,  "  you  cheepin'  chicks  think  nae  woman  young 
unless  she  is  as  jimp  aboot  the  waist  that  ye  could  span  her 
wi'  your  gowpens.  But  men  that  set  themsel's  up  to  ken, 
like  something  a  thocht  mair  substantial.  When  they  eat 
sugar  plooms  they  like  them  ripe,  no  green  an'  hard — sae 
ye  will  maybe  mind  that  a  woman  may  hae  bairns  o'  her 
ain  (and  impudent,  upsettin'  gorbs  they  are  !)  an'  yet  be  far 
and  far  eneuch  f rae  the  sere  leaf  an'  the  yellow !" 

"  Come  away  then,  mother !"  cried  careless  Grisel,  fall- 
ing herself  into  the  country  talk,  "  and  let  us  see  your  auld 
admirer  hirplin'  on  his  stick,  or  aiblins  meeting  us  in  the 
manse  loaning  Avi'  a  dog  and  a  string  to  lead  him  !" 

My  mother  did  not  deign  to  answer  this  remark,  but 
nevertheless,  the  whole  cavalcade  turned  towards  the  Manse 
of  Minnigaff  in  answer  to  her  thought. 

Destiny  was  closing  her  nets,  and  those  who  were  to  be 
taken  in  the  toils  knew  it  not. 

But  the  final  tug  was  given  to  the  strings  when  a  sly, 
deceitful-eyed  game-watcher  named  Gleyed  Lowrie  ran 
across  an  open  space  of  meadow,  holding  up  his  hand  to 
the  officers  of  the  squadron  of  horse.  Captain  Austin  Tre- 
dennis  halted  his  company  impatiently,  but  the  informer 

195 


THE     DAEK     0'     THE     MOON 

passed  him  by,  and  holding  by  the  stirrup  of  young  The- 
ophilus  Gunter,  he  poured  a  lengthy  tale  into  his  private 
ear. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  little  study  and  oratory  of  the  ]\Ianse 
of  Minnigaff  (where  in  the  corner  before  a  little  wooden 
shelf,  made  large  enough  to  hold  a  Bible,  there  Avere  a 
couple  of  hollows  worn  smooth  and  round  by  the  knees  of 
godly  ministers  long  gone  to  their  account)  Hugh  Penpont, 
ancient  bachelor  and  minister  of  the  kirk,  replaced  his  pen 
with  care  in  his  great  silver  ink-horn,  and  fortified  himself 
with  a  glass  of  Hollands  before  venturing  out  to  be  (ac- 
cording to  his  possible)  the  instrument  of  Destiny. 

Tn  the  "  ben  "-room  sat  Joyce  Faa,  strange-eyed,  gray- 
lipped,  inert  in  the  grip  of  her  fate.  Harry  Polwart,  for 
whom  there  was  no  physician  of  any  pretension  nearer 
than  Dumfries,  stood  erect,  his  hands  pressed  to  his  seared 
forehead.  Moreover,  Surgeon-barber  Christopher  Kitman, 
had  the  gypsy  thought  of  consulting  him,  would  probably 
have  prescribed  a  poultice  of  the  brains  of  bats  braised 
small,  together  with  the  wings  of  beetles  and  the  galls  of 
three  newly  killed  stoats,  to  be  applied  to  the  eyeballs 
thrice  a  day.  But  neither  Joyce  nor  Harry  Polwart  even 
thought  of  a  doctor.  They  had  trusted  all  their  lives  to 
simples  and  the  rude  efficient  surgery  learned  from  Meggat 
and  the  crones  of  the  tri])e.  In  such  a  case  as  this,  how- 
ever, there  was  no  idea  of  seeking  a  remedy.  Harry,  at 
least,  would  have  connected  something  like  impiety  with 
the  notion.  The  god  of  the  lightning  and  thunder — Shiv, 
the  striking  god — he  had  put  forth  his  hand,  and  there 
was  an  end.    Shiv's  hand  had  closed.    All  was  ended. 

And  Joyce,  though  in  part  convent  bred,  had  in  extreme 
youth  been  reared  among  these  simple  nature  worshippers, 
and  whatever  beliefs  and  thoughts  she  may  have  kept  in 
her  heart,  she  was  far  from  mentioning  to  any  of  her  kith 
and  kin. 

196 


THE    MANSE    OF    MINNIGAFF 

Greg  Payterson  (by  birth  Paterson,  but  so  pronounced) 
was  also  an  instrument  of  some  occult  Providence — whether 
of  Shiv  or  Another.  The  minister  had  sent  him  to  bring 
an  additional  witness,  and,  wishing  to  do  the  job  thor- 
oughly (and  also  to  please  as  many  as  possible  of  his  cronies 
in  the  hamlet  of  Cree  Bridge),  he  had  returned  with  Peter 
MacGill  the  miller,  Allan  Blair  the  smith,  Easton  Darvell 
the  weaver  of  broadcloth,  together  with  their  several  wives, 
all  hastily  attired  in  aprons  and  clean  "  keps,"  added  to 
their  work-a-day  dresses — altogether  much  too  large  a 
company  for  the  little  ben-room  of  the  Manse  of  Minni- 
gaff. 

Greg,  however,  mindful  of  his  master's  repute  for  hospi- 
tality, had  carefully  guarded  his  position  in  the  issuing 
of  invitations. 

"  Ye  see,  lads,"  he  had  said,  "  this  is  to  be  nae  penny 
weddin'  spree,  mind  ye  that !  It's  eneuch,  and  mair  than 
eneuch,  that  Maister  Penpont  should  demean  himsel'  to 
mairry  them  ava'  an'  gie  siccan  heart-breakin'  pagans  a 
Christian  benison,  withoot  haein'  himsel'  robbit  by  a  wheen 
drouthy  tykes  frae  the  Clachan,  that  hae  nae  mair  mense 
than  to  sup  up  guid  French  aqua-vity  like  sae  muckle  well 
water !  Sae  mind,  lathies,  ye  come  for  the  pleasure  o'  the 
sicht,  an'  no  to  get  onything  oot  o'  it  for  your  bellies.  Gin 
ye  are  no  content — faith,  ye  can  gang  up  to  the  Dungeon 
o'  Buchan  and  settle  your  claims  wi'  Hector  Faa  himsel' !" 

So  in  such  circumstances  and  with  such  witnesses,  Joyce 
Faa  stood  up  to  be  married  to  Harry  Polwart  in  the  little 
green  walk  before  the  Manse  door,  shaded  with  beach-trees, 
now  thinning  a  little  and  yellowing,  while  the  path  itself 
was  thick  carpeted  beneath  with  their  fallen  leaves.  Their 
feet  made  no  noise  upon  these  as  they  took  their  places, 
guided  by  Greg  Payterson,  who,  having  dry-nursed  his 
minister  through  thirty  years  of  helpless  bachelordom,  was 
naturally  fully  expert  in  the  mysteries  attending  wedlock. 

"A   wee   to  this  side,   Maister   Gypsyman — a  kennin' 
197 


THE     DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

farther  wast,  mistress.  There,  ye'll  do  the  noo.  When 
the  minister  comes  in  his  black  silk  goon,  wi'  tassels,  ye 
are  to  step  twa  steps  to  the  front  and  gie  a  bow  and  a 
kurtshie,  according  to  yer  eddication  and  abeelities.  This 
sort  o'  thing  is  maistly  thocht  the  maist  decent  in  the 
pairish  o'  Minnigaff,  a  kind  o'  soopin  o'  the  grund  like 
a  wifie  dusting  the  meal  aff  farles  o'  cake  wi'  a  feather 
brush.  But  some  toon-bred  folks  favors  a  kind  o'  dook 
on  your  hunkers,  like  a  half-fu'  tub  jinkin  on  a  mill 
dam — " 

"  Joyce,"  whispered  Harry,  "  if  that  fellow  has  much 
more  to  say,  let  me  get  a  hand  on  the  haft  of  my  knife  and 
another  on  his  neck  !" 

But  the  girl's  hand,  laid  gently  on  his  arm,  calmed  and 
quieted  him.  And,  in  truth,  the  rasping  self-sutlicience  of 
Greg  Payterson's  official  voice  was  doubtless  very  irritating 
to  nerves  tried  as  the  gypsy's  had  been  that  day. 

Then  the  minister  sailed  with  dignity  out  of  his  front 
door.  He  was  attired  in  his  Sabbath  blacks.  A  clean  neck- 
cloth had  taken  the  place  of  the  ink-stained  article,  on 
which  in  fits  of  absent-mindedness  he  sometimes  wiped  his 
goose-quills.  He  had  put  on  the  decent  Genevan  gown, 
which  covered  him  down  to  his  feet,  and  a  little  red  pocket 
Bible  that  had  been  ready  to  his  hand  ever  since  college 
days,  had  a  finger  duly  stuck  between  the  leaves  at  a 
favorite  passage  in  Ephesians,  which  he  administered  as  a 
kind  of  extreme  unction  to  those  about  to  wed. 

For  Hugh  Penpont,  alive  to  the  necessity  of  dwelling  at 
harmony  with  all  the  world,  was  not  the  man  to  neglect 
the  outward  and  ordinary  means,  even  where  only  a  couple 
of  gypsies  were  concerned.  Altogether,  had  he  kno\vn  that 
his  ancient  sweetheart  and  (comparatively  speaking)  heart- 
breaker  was  within  a  mile  of  his  house  with  purport  of 
visitation  in  her  heart,  he  could  not  have  ordered  himself 
more  elegantly.  Which  thing  shows  the  advantage  of 
having  no  respect  of  persons  in  the  matter  of  toilet,  for 

198 


THE    MANSE    OF    MINNIGAFF 

such  are  often  privileged  to  entertain  angels  unaware  and 
in  befitting  raiment. 

"  Let  the  parties  to  this  contemplated  engagement  in 
holy  matrimony  stand  up,"  said  the  minister,  with  dignity. 

Greg  Payterson  signified  that  the  command  was  part  of 
the  ritual  by  jerking  his  elbow,  and  finally  taking  the 
bridegroom  by  the  arm  and  moving  him  forward  a  pace 
to  the  front. 

"  Keep  your  dirty  paw  ofl'  me !"  hissed  the  gypsy  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  mouth,  with  an  accent  so  fierce  that  Greg 
fell  back  as  if  he  had  been  struck  fair  in  the  face. 

"  They  are  no  chancy,  I  telled  ye  sae,  Greg — thae  wild 
gypsies!"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "Lord,  he  has  pitten 
me  mair  in  a  trimmle  than  when  I  drappit  the  Psalm-buik 
on  the  Yerl's  head  as  I  was  gaun  up  the  pulpit  steps !  Oh, 
the  murderin',  misleart  runnagate !  Nae  man  can  be 
decent  wi'  a  face  on  him  like  yon !  He  looks  like  a  man 
dead  and  damned  a  guid  twalmonth  an'  mair !" 

"  Can  any  man  allege  and  support  any  just  cause  or 
impediment  why  these  two  persons  should  not  be  wedded 
according  to  the  law  and  judicatories  of  the  Kirk  of  Scot- 
land as  by  the  Eevolution  Settlement  established?" 

The  minister's  question  came  forth  solemn  and  official. 

"  I  can !"  cried  Jasper  Jamie,  riding  up  with  the  face 
of  an  accusing  angel.  "  The  man  before  you  is  a  murderer ! 
And  I  call  upon  you  all  to  help  me  to  arrest  him !  I  will 
hold  you  six  men  responsible  if  you  do  not!  Minister, 
this  is  Harry  Polwart,  the  gypsy  smuggler,  who,  with  mine 
own  eyes,  I  saw  lead  off  the  two  excisemen — Supervisor 
Craig  and  Eobin  Trevor — with  intent  to  cast  them  into 
the  quicksands  of  Barnhourie  !" 

At  the  first  sound  of  Jasper  Jamie's  voice  the  blind  man 
snatched  his  hand  out  of  Joyce's,  turned  his  head  every 
way  as  if  to  locate  his  enemy,  and  drew  a  knife. 

Then,  as  Jasper  continued  speaking,  Polwart  launched 
himself  straight,  as  he  thought,  at  his  accuser, 

199 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

But  Jasper,  still  on  horseback,  easily  evaded  the  charge, 
and  the  gypsy  rushed  straight  upon  Greg  Payterson,  that 
worthy  but  inglorious  stoop  of  the  Kirk,  who,  thinking 
the  assault  delivered  solely  on  his  account,  gave  vent 
to  a  yell  and  tripped  backward  over  a  row  of  the  minister's 
cabbages. 

"  Help !  help !  He  is  on  me !"  he  cried;  "  he  is  killing 
me !  Murder !  Death  !  Destruction !  The  wild  gypsy 
has  broken  lowse  !  Grip  him  !  Haud  him !  To  prison  wi' 
the  randy !  In  the  King's  name,  haud  him !  I  order  you 
by  ray  authority  as  beadle  o'  this  pairish !" 

So,  nimbly  scrambling  to  his  feet,  and  uttering  all  the 
time  these  valorous  calls  to  arms,  the  minister's  man  dis- 
appeared down  the  little  manse  loaning,  and,  finding  the 
kirk  door  open,  he  rushed  through  it  into  the  vestry  and 
there  locked  himself  within. 

Then,  throwing  open  the  window,  which  consisted  of  a 
single  pane,  and  through  which  a  cat  would  be  hard  pushed 
to  intrude  itself,  he  continued  to  shout  directions  at  the  top 
of  his  voice  to  whomsoever  it  might  concern. 

"  He's  blind,  I  tell  ye  !  He  canna  do  ye  ony  hurt,  lads ! 
Tak'  firm  haud  o'  him,  and  afT  to  prison  wi'  the  murderous 
rogue !  Grip  him  richt  aboot  the  legs  and  throw  him ! 
Syne  tie  him  up  firm  wi'  a  rape !" 

But  even  these  directions  of  Greg  Payterson's,  in  them- 
selves something  futile  and  impersonal,  had  their  uses. 
For  the  sound  of  them,  borne  upon  the  light  wind,  carried 
from  the  Kirk  knowe  across  the  shallow  Penkill  Water  and 
down  to  where  at  the  change-house  of  Minnigaff  a  certain 
squadron  of  that  famous  regiment  of  King  George's  dra- 
goons, afterwards  called  Ligonier's  Horse,  was  easing  girths 
and  cooling  throats  in  the  narrow  village  street. 

The  clachan  of  Minnigaff  is  certainly  one  of  the  most 
ancient  in  Galloway,  and  at  that  time  it  resembled  nothing 
so  much  as  a  bowlder-strewn  hill-side,  with  the  spaces  be- 
tween the  blocks  of  stone  rudely  roofed  over  and  thatched 

200 


THE    MANSE    OF    MINXIGAFF 

with  brown  heather  and  yellow  oat  straw.  A  few  of  these 
huts  had  their  gables  to  the  road  (which  passed  up  the  left 
bank  of  the  Water  of  Cree),  but  the  greater  number  were 
set  at  an  angle,  as  if  showered  from  a  pepper-caster. 

But  whether  duly  oriented  or  dispersed  at  random,  every 
domicile  possessed  another  and  often  far  larger  erection 
before  its  door.  This  was  the  family  midden — those  edi- 
fices which  in  these  latter  days  wise  men  have  begun  to 
study  for  what  they  tell  of  the  life  of  the  folk  of  bygone 
ages,  but  which,  when  considered  contemporaneously  and 
by  means  of  the  ordinary  senses,  are  not  pleasant  objects 
for  prolonged  contemplation.  These  Minnigaff  middens,  I 
say,  were  in  nearly  every  case  larger  than  the  parent  house, 
or  compound  of  dwelling  and  cattle-shed,  whose  inhabi- 
tants, human  and  bestial,  had  supplied  the  materials  for 
its  erection.  Most  of  these  middens,  also,  were  set  like 
mountainous  islands  in  a  sea  of  liquid  green  filth,  where 
ducks  dabbled  and  squattered  all  day  long,  and  in  which 
patient  calves  stood  winking  the  flies  from  their  inflamed 
eyes  or  apparently  enjoying  the  coolness  and  the  light 
aromatic  breezes  as  much  as  though  they  had  been  chewing 
the  cud  knee-deep  in  some  rippling  river  or  lily-bordered 
lake. 

In  front  of  the  largest  of  these,  that  belonging  to  the 
change-house,  Captain  Austin  Tredennis  held  his  nose,  and 
swore  with  heavy  cavalry  point  and  vigor  at  the  poverty 
of  the  accommodation  upon  which  he  had  been  counting, 
and,  alternately,  at  the  infamous  kind  of  work  which  local 
authorities  set  a  gentleman  to  do. 

The  good-wives  made  manifold  affidavits  that  most  of 
the  men-folk  had  gone  off  to  the  manse,  and  the  troopers, 
with  a  bad  grace,  were  carrying  water  for  their  beasts  and 
grooming  them  in  person — duties  which  they  are  wont  to 
delegate  upon  occasion  to  the  able-bodied  male  inhabitants 
of  each  village  where  they  found  themselves  quartered, 
while  they  proceeded  to  make  themselves  pleasant  to  the 

201 


THE    DAKK    0'    THE    MOON 

women-folk^  as  the  duty  of  cavalrymen  is  all  the  world 
over. 

All  this  was  going  on  when,  wafted  upon  the  winds 
from  above,  came  repeated  calls  of  "  Death  !"'  and  "  Mur- 
der !"  from  the  heights  of  the  kirk  lands. 

It  did  not  take  the  men  long  to  saddle  and  ride  out  in  the 
direction  from  whence  came  the  outcries,  the  spy  who  had 
clung  to  young  Gunter's  stirrup  leading  them. 

And  so  it  chanced  that  there  in  the  manse  garden  of 
Minnigaff,  where  the  ink  was  not  yet  dry  upon  the  min- 
ister's peaceful  quill,  and  the  last  sentence  of  "  seven- 
teenthly  "  lay  unfinished  upon  the  desk,  the  hand  of  Des- 
tiny shut  down. 

As  Austin  Tredennis  rode  at  a  rapid  trot  up  the  hill,  his 
men  scatteringly  following,  he  came  upon  a  striking  sight. 
In  an  angle  of  the  little  walled  manse  garden  a  tall,  dark 
man,  his  eyes  staring  wildly,  a  long  and  shining  knife  in 
his  hand,  crouched  low  on  his  hams.  His  lips  were  com- 
pressed, and  with  his  sightless  head  turning  slowly  about 
in  a  listening  attitude,  he  strove  to  catch  every  movement 
of  his  assailants. 

These,  with  one  exception,  were  not  too  painfully  eager 
for  the  attack.  The  half-dozen  villagers  had  armed  them- 
selves with  any  weapon  that  came  to  hand — a  garden  mat- 
tock, a  hammer,  a  scythe — as  chance  directed,  while  Jasper 
Jamie  alone  held  a  sword  in  his  hand.  The  gypsy  was 
bleeding  at  the  shoulder  from  having  thrown  himself  in  his 
first  furious  anger  upon  the  point  of  Jasper's  weapon. 
It  would  have  been  easy  enough  to  kill  him,  but  Jasper 
cried  out  to  take  him  alive — a  reconmiendation  which  was 
converted  into  a  command  with  the  authority  of  law  by 
the  minister. 

"  Ay !"  cried  IMr.  Penpont,  who  had  picked  up  the  skirts 
of  his  gown  in  order  that  if  necessary  lie  miglit  the  sooner 
place  himself  in  safety;  "take  the  fellow  alive!  Let  him 
be  tried !    I  am  a  justice  of  the  peace,  and  order  you  I" 

20a 


THE    MANSE    OF    MINNIGAFF 

Joyce  Faa  stood  a  little  apart,  her  hands  clinched,  her 
eyes  flashing.  Harry  Polwart  had,  at  the  first  sound  of 
alarm,  bidden  her  keep  at  this  distance.  But  with  the  in- 
stinct of  her  breeding  and  the  wild  life  she  had  led  at  the 
Dungeon  of  Buchan,  she  never  even  thought  of  deserting 
him.  Her  sympathies  were  all  with  the  blind  outlaw,  now 
in  imminent  danger  of  being  caught  in  the  hunters'  toils. 
In  a  rapid  undertone,  and  in  their  own  language,  she 
kept  him  informed  of  every  movement  of  his  assailants, 
and  had  there  been  no  interference  from  without,  there 
is  no  saying  how  the  fight  might  have  ended.  For  the  two 
hill  gypsies  kept  edging  all  the  time  nearer  to  the  deep, 
tangled  ravine  of  the  Cree  Water,  and  it  was  in  the  heart 
of  Joyce  that  if  she  could  get  Harry  once  into  the  dense 
thickets  of  the  Wood  of  Cree  they  could  there  defy  all  pur- 
suit. For  the  first  of  Rommany  laws  is  this :  "  Thou  shalt 
help  thy  fellow-gypsy  well  if  he  be  thy  friend,  but  if  he  be 
thine  enemy — better !  Afterwards  ye  may  settle  your  af- 
fairs !" 

Beside  the  minister  stood  his  ancient  sweetheart.  May 
Mischief,  who  had  ridden  on  ahead,  with  Jasper  Jamie, 
perhaps  that  Grisel  might  not  too  critically  observe 
the  meeting,  but  Marion  and  her  daughter  had  not  come 
up  yet. 

As  soon,  however,  as  the  squadron  of  cavalry  jingled 
into  the  little  enclosure,  the  blind  gypsy  recognized  that 
all  was  over  so  far  as  his  chances  of  flight  were  concerned. 
He  threw  down  the  long  knife  at  his  feet,  folded  his  arms 
placidly  across  his  breast,  and  with  a  slight  upward  jerk 
of  his  chin  summoned  Joyce  to  his  side. 

There  they  stood,  the  only  calm  and  impassive  figures 
within  sight,  the  two  outlaw  folk  within  the  ring  of  their 
enemies.  And  such  was  the  power  of  kinship  that  Joyce 
never  once  thought  of  not  taking  upon  herself  an  equal 
responsibility  for  any  crime  with  which  her  companion 
might  stand  chargeable  under  the  laws  of  the  King. 

203 


THE    DARK     0'    THE     MOON 

"  What  have  we  here  ?"'  cried  Captain  Tredennis.  "  A 
murderer?  Siiy  you  so?  Hold  him  there,  sergeant! 
Bring  a  pair  of  handcuffs.    His  companion  also  V 

But  to  himself  he  said:  "By  gad!  a  handsome  wench. 
What  eyes  these  gypsies  have — black  as  a  starless  night!" 

The  two  gypsies  yielded  themselves  without  any  trace 
of  emotion,  and  the  cunning  spy,  Gleyed  Lowrie,  hummed 
"  Lillibullero "  as  he  gleefully  clicked  the  Bow  Street 
"  hold-fasts  "  upon  their  wrists.  Lowrie  was  a  well-known 
informer  and  officer  of  the  law  from  Kirkcudbright — the 
best-hated  main  in  a  score  of  parishes. 

At  this  moment  there  rode  up  Grisel  Heron,  and  with 
her,  gay  in  his  scarlet  and  gold,  Captain  Richard  Heron, 
called  of  his  Majesty's  Border  Fencibles. 

In  a  moment  the  spy  had  his  little,  keen,  pig's  eyes  fixed 
upon  him. 

Captain  Austin  Tredennis  rode  forward  to  where  against 
the  dry  stone  dyke  of  Mr.  Penpont's  garden  the  two  gypsies 
stood  manacled,  fronting  their  accusers,  much  as  in  a  day 
of  battle  and  execution  they  might  have  fronted  a  firing 
party. 

"  Your  names !"  he  demanded,  brusquely,  but  not  un- 
kindly. 

The  male  gypsy  did  not  answer,  maintaining  his  atti- 
tude of  contemptuous  indifference.  But  the  girl  spoke  out 
directly  as  one  speaks  to  an  equal. 

"  My  name  is  Joyce  Fan,"  she  said. 

"Daughter  of  the  outlaw.  Hector  Faa,  attainted  for 
murder  ?" 

"  If  my  father  be  a  murderer,"  answered  Jo3'ce  Faa, 
defiantly,  "  so  are  most  men  of  your  profession  !" 

The  soldier  seemed  to  be  surprised  at  hearing  such  words 
so  clearly  spoken  by  a  gypsy  girl  of  the  hills.  But  he  turn- 
ed away,  saying  only:  "  It  is  my  duty  to  carry  you  to  Kirk- 
cudbright, where  questions  will  be  put  to  you  by  those  of 
more  authority  than  I.     Meantime,  do  you  deny  knowing 

204 


THE    MANSE    OF    MINNIGAFF 

anything  of  these  two  missing  men,  Mr.  Supervisor  Craig 
and  Trevor  the  exciseman  ?" 

"  I  have  not  heard  so  much  as  their  names  before,"  said 
the  girl. 

"  I  trust  that  may  turn  out  to  be  so,"  said  the  soldier, 
gravely.  "  Murder  in  the  first  degree  and  maidens  of  your 
ajjpearance  consort  but  ill  together !" 

At  the  first  sound  of  the  name  of  Joyce  Faa  my  mother 
started  forward.  She  had  heard  the  w^ord  "  murder  "  used 
several  times,  with  an  indistinct  idea  that  somehow  it  must 
concern  me.  So  now  she  sprang  forward,  shaking  off  m  a 
moment  the  minister's  restraining  hand.  She  ran  to  the 
girl  and  seized  her  by  the  wrist. 

"  Where  is  my  son,  Joyce  Faa  ?"  she  cried.  "  I  bid  you 
tell  me  if  you  have  killed  him !  Where  is  he  ?  If  you  have 
murdered  him,  I  will  kill  you  with  my  hands !" 

At  the  sound  of  the  new  voice  Harry  Pol  wart  turned 
his  sightless  eyes  full  on  my  mother,  and  his  mind  seemed 
to  endeavor  to  pierce  the  black  blank  in  which  he  was 
wrapped. 

But  Joyce  did  not  reply  at  all.  Whether  she  even  under- 
stood my  mother  is  doubtful.  At  any  rate,  she  spoke  no 
word.  So  my  mother  shook  her  in  her  unreasoning  anger. 
For  these  fits  sometimes  took  her  when  none  could  re- 
strain her — that  is,  save  my  father  only. 

"  Tell  me — tell  me !  or  I  will  surely  kill  you !"  she  cried. 

Then  rode  Captain  Austin  Tredennis  slowly  up  to  her. 

"Do  not  forget  yourself,  madam,"  he  said,  courteously; 
"  remember  that  the  woman  is  a  prisoner  and  bound." 

But  my  mother  was  not  to  be  turned  from  her  purpose. 

"  She  has  killed  my  son !  I  know  it !  She  held  him 
prisoner  for  months — there  in  their  horrid  dens  and  caves ! 
And  now  I  only  ask  if  she  has  slain  him,  and  she  will  not 
answer — no,  nor  even  tell  me  where  they  have  put  his 
body !" 

Then  once  again  the  soldier  turned  to  Joyce  Faa. 
205 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  this  lady's  son  ?"  he  said. 

''  Who  is  this  woman  ?"  answered  Joyce,  no  muscle  of  her 
face  moving — only  her  lips,  that  lay  like  twin  geranium 
flowers  upon  the  ivory  pallor  of  her  cheek,  paling  a  little. 

"  She  is  IMistress  Patrick  Heron  of  Rathan  and  Orra- 
land,"  yet  another  voice  put  in — that  of  Captain  Richard 
Heron  of  the  Fencibles,  who  had  just  ridden  up. 

"  She  is  my  mother,"  added  Grisel.  "  And  pray,  what 
have  you  done  with  my  brother  Max  ?" 

"  She  has  killed  him !"  cried  my  mother. 

*'  More  likely  married  him !"  quoth  Grisel. 

Then  there  came  a  slow,  rosy  flush,  deep  and  gradual, 
over  the  face  of  Joyce  Faa.  The  red  quite  faded  from  her 
lips,  but  all  the  more  stood  confessed  along  her  cheek  and 
neck.  With  it  there  came  a  smile,  the  first  that  had  crossed 
her  face  since  she  bent  over  to  wake  me  in  the  Shiel  of  the 
Dungeon  the  night  of  my  capture.  She  had  done  so 
much,  and  this  was  her  reward  from  the  people  of  my  race 
and  name. 

"  If  1  reckon  aright,"  she  said,  speaking  quietly  and 
without  heat,  "  about  this  time  he  will  be  riding  over  the 
hill  to  Orraland  Gate  upon  a  borrowed  sheltie." 

"  Mount  the  prisoners  and  let  them  ride  forward,  Ser- 
geant Pratt;  detail  twenty  men  and  the  same  number 
of  the  least  tired  horses  to  convey  them  to  Kirkcudbright 
without  delay.    1  will  accompany  them  myself." 

"  Aha,  Austin  !  still  with  an  eye  to  beauty  !  Fie,  fie !  and 
at  your  age !"  cried  young  Leo  Gunter,  who  thought  that 
he  had  kept  silence  long  enough. 

But  the  spy,  Gleyed  Lowric,  had  something  yet  to  say. 

"  Stop  a  moment.  Captain.  I  give  you  another  pris- 
oner !"  he  cried.  "  I  deliver  into  your  hands  Dick  o' 
the  Isle,  the  leader  of  the  liCvellers'  rebellion !  I  saw  him 
at  the  muster  by  the  cross-roads  of  Rascarrel.  Ask  him. 
He  will  not  denv  it !" 

206 


THE    MAXSE    OF    MINNIGAFF 

He  pointed  directly  at  Captain  Eichard  Heron  of  his 
Majesty's  Border  Fencible  Regiment,  who  sat  his  horse 
calmly,  twirling  an  all  but  imaginary  mustache. 

"  He  will  not  deny  it !"  he  cried,  triumphantly.  "  I 
saw  him  stand  out  in  the  moonlight  and  shoot  his  pistol  at 
your  father — Colonel  Gunter  !" 

"  Oh,  he  is  not,  I  tell  you — he  is  not — !"  cried  my 
mother,  and  stopped. 

For  the  difficulty  of  explaining  who  Captain  Eichard 
Heron  was  not,  seemed  nothing  to  the  impossibility  of  ex- 
plaining who  Dick  o'  the  Isle  tvas.  But  the  young  man  of 
many  aliases  made  a  slight  movement  of  his  hand  to  his 
friends  to  indicate  that  it  would  be  advisable  for  the  pres- 
ent to  let  things  take  their  course. 

"  I  do  not  deny  anything,"  he  said.  "  I  am  Dick  of  the 
Isle,  and  I  did  shoot  a  pistol  at  Colonel  Gunter  at  the 
muster  of  Eascarrel,  though  not  with  intent  to  do  him 
bodily  harm." 

"  And  if  that  be  true,  by  the  Lord,  you  shall  explain 
what  you  are  doing  here  in  that  King's  coat !"  cried  Cap- 
tain Tredennis,  angrily,  for  this  was  a  point  of  honor 
with  him. 

"  I  have  as  good  a  right  to  this  coat  of  the  King — ay, 
though  it  came  warm  off  the  Eoyal  Hanoverian  back  an 
hour  ago,"  said  the  false  Dick  of  the  Isle,  "  as  to  any  other 
coat  in  the  universe  !" 

"  And  that,"  he  added  to  himself,  under  his  breath,  "  is 
just  no  light  at  all !" 


XXTX 

THE    PROVOST'S    SPIRITS 

FEW  men  had  been  worse  used  by  fortune  than  Captain 
Austin  Tredennis.  Born  to  an  ample  fortune — so  far, 
that  it,  as  expectations  go  (and  in  his  ease  they  did  not  go 
far),  Austin  had  the  further  misfortune  of  nominally  in- 
heriting an  involved  title  and  an  estate  not  worth  a  penny. 

At  a  time  when  money  did  most  things  and  influence  the 
rest  in  the  British  army,  he  found  himself  still  a  captain 
of  dragoons  at  thirty-nine,  with  nothing  to  show  for  his 
twenty  years'  active  service  but  a  sword  of  honor  given  him 
by  the  Prince  Eugene,  that  excellent  ally  of  England,  and 
a  bullet  wound  in  the  right  thigh,  which  gave  him  a  slight 
halt  in  walking,  and  kept  him  informed  when  he  might 
expect  the  wind  to  change  into  the  east. 

A  man  not  overwhelmingly  in  love  with  life,  one  who 
owed  little  to  the  great,  yet  who  felt  himself  the  superior 
of  many  set  in  authority  over  him,  Austin  Tredennis  was  a 
man  who  never  made  a  complaint  that  life  had  treated  him 
badly.  He  was  in  all  things  scrupulous  to  obey,  rigorous 
to  exact  obedience,  liked  for  his  grace  and  certain  courtesy 
by  his  inferiors,  and,  besides  being  trusted  by  his  men  as 
all  good  officers  are,  his  unquestioned  personal  courage 
carrying  him  safely  through  many  a  strait  place.  As  a 
swordsman  he  had  few  equals  in  Britain  at  a  time  when 
every  man  was  a  fencer.  He  had  no  equal  at  all  as  a  shot 
with  a  pistol.  These  facts,  becoming  widely  known,  made 
for  peace. 

208 


THE    PEOVOST'S    SPIRITS 

His  father,  Chieseley  Trcdennis,  had  made  a  fortune  in 
the  West  India  trade  as  it  was  then — sugar,  tobacco,  and 
imported  negroes.  He  had  designed  his  son  to  follow  in 
his  footsteps.  But  one  voyage  to  Jamaica,  and  a  single 
month's  experience  of  the  methods  of  an  enlightened 
British  plantation  under  half-breed  overseers,  had  satisfied 
young  Austin.  Come  what  might,  he  could  not  be  a  sugar- 
planter.  He  would  be  a  soldier,  if  he  had  to  serve  in  the 
ranks.  There  was  an  interview  between  father  and  son 
which  comprised  some  picturesque  language  on  either  side, 
and  then  Austin  Tredennis,  of  all  his  father's  great  fort- 
une, took  only  the  price  of  an  ensigncy  of  horse — the  pur- 
chase-money of  which  he  afterwards  repaid  out  of  his 
meagre  pay  to  the  uttermost  farthing. 

His  father,  being  an  exact  man,  gave  him  a  receipt 
iipon  stamped  paper  for  the  amount.  As  for  his  other 
relatives,  his  uncle,  Lord  Tredennis,  had  a  daughter  by 
an  early  uncovenanted  attachment,  which  fear  of  his 
father,  also  a  hard  man,  had  prevented  him  from  mak- 
ing regular  till  the  death  of  the  mother  rendered  it  im- 
possible. 

In  order  to  compose  all  family  divisions  and  quarrels, 
this  girl,  when  but  a  child,  had  been  designed  by  Lord 
Tredennis  for  his  nephew.  But  the  West  India  planter 
discovered  an  objection — the  nobleman  had  thrown  all  his 
energies  into  a  successful  attempt  to  legitimatize  the  girl, 
and  to  convey  to  her  his  recently  granted  earldom.  It  was 
in  pursuit  of  an  attempt  to  prove  an  early  marriage  by 
consent  under  the  more  elastic  laws  of  Scotland,  and  to  in- 
duce the  government  of  the  day  to  grant  him  his  desired 
succession  to  heirs  general,  that  Lord  Tredennis  embarked 
for  Greenock  at  London  Bridge  in  a  vessel  which  was  never 
more  heard  of. 

Nevertheless,  the  machinery  he  had  set  going  worked  for 
him,  and  all  that  he  had  desired  was  granted  after  his 
death. 

u  209 


THE     DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

In  the  mean  time  there  remained  nothing  but  a  dis- 
puted succession  to  the  son  of  the  West  India  planter.  His 
father,  now  an  old  man,  had  so  pickled  an  originally 
pregnant  temper  in  spices  and  hot  condiments  that  he  re- 
mained alive  solely  to  plague  and  vex  his  son.  He  was  a 
benevolent  man,  too,  in  his  way,  Avhich  made  it  worse. 
There  are  fine  marble  palaces  out  near  to  the  physic  garden 
in  Chelsea  which  bear  his  name,  where  widows  of  sailormen 
lodged  in  almhouses,  and  blessed  all  day  (and  especially 
at  meal-times)  the  name  of  Chieseley  Tredennis.  He  built 
a  school,  also,  out  at  East  Gidding  for  the  children  of  per- 
secuted "  enthusiasts,"  and  his  name  is  mentioned  with 
honor  in  all  the  calendars  of  the  company  of  Christian 
people  called  Wesleyans. 

But  he  so  arranged  matters  that  he  should  not  have 
one  stiver  to  leave  to  that  poor  captain  of  horse,  his  only 
son  Austin,  who  on  his  part  neither  blessed  his  name  nor 
made  any  pretence  of  doing  so.  On  the  other  hand,  with 
a  fine  equanimity,  he  drilled  his  men,  did  as  he  was  bid, 
or  saw  that  others  did  as  he  bade  them ;  fought  battles,  rode 
on  chargers,  plundered  a  little  or  a  great  deal,  as  he  had 
opportunity — according  to  the  wont  of  the  horsemen  of 
the  period.  Yet  he  was  not  a  man  of  cruelty,  and  no  wife, 
maid,  or  widow  in  any  captured  town  laid  her  scaith  to 
him.  He  did  his  business,  which  was  the  business  of  the 
government,  as  well  in  Galloway  as  he  might  have  done  it 
in  the  Low  Countries,  without  partisanship  and  without 
heat,  but  with  a  dispassionate  attention  to  instruction  and 
a  liberal  reading  of  human  kindness  into  the  letter  of  the 
law — so  far,  that  is,  as  he  could  square  the  result  with  his 
duty. 

All  this  till  the  day  when  from  the  House  of  Destiny,  the 
Manse  of  Minnigaif,  he  rode  eastward  by  the  shore-road 
to  the  prison  of  Kirkcudbright. 

At  this  point  the  old  Austin  Tredennis  and  the  new 
part  company. 

210 


THE    PROVOST'S    SPIEITS 

The  common  prison  or  Thieves'  Hole  of  the  burgh  of 
Kirkcudbright  was,  as  a  later  visiting  philanthropist*  said, 
"  a  disgrace  to  any  civilized  land."  But  then,  till  the  last 
few  years  so  was  every  jail  in  Scotland.  Now  it  seems  as 
if  the  fashion  of  the  time  had  run  to  the  other  extreme, 
insomuch  that  nowadays  the  able-bodied  rogue  univer- 
sally prefers  prison  to  the  workhouse  erected  for  the  re- 
ception of  honest  poverty. 

But  Captain  Austin  Tredennis,  having  done  his  duty  in 
riding  to  Kirkcudbright  upon  escort  duty  with  his  trio  of 
prisoners,  discovered  upon  opening  the  door  of  the  Thieves' 
Hole  that  all  the  space  available  for  those  under  his  charge 
was  a  dripping,  noisome  den,  already  inhabited  by  a  dozen 
rogues  of  both  sexes,  the  sweepings  of  the  bounds  of  mu- 
nicipal rascaldom,  a  stray  debtor  without  friends  to  en- 
large his  privileges,  and,  dispersed  over  all,  an  innumera- 
ble company  of  the  accumulated  vermin  of  the  ages. 

"  Sir,"  said  Austin  Tredennis,  to  the  chief  magistrate 
at  whose  door  he  had  knocked  with  his  sword-hilt  on  his 
arrival,  "  in  England  we  would  not  lodge  our  scent-dogs 
thus — no,  not  the  hogs  in  our  styes." 

The  provost  laughed  a  little,  low,  gurgling  laugh.  He 
was  a  jocose  man,  and  fat  of  his  habit,  a  well-to-do  owner 
of  coastwise  shipping  and  herring  boats  out  upon  fair  and 
doubtful  ventures.  And  in  his  time  he  had  seen  many 
English  captains  of  horse,  who  had  grumbled  at  many 
things  within  the  bounds  of  his  burgh. 

But  the  mistake  that  Provost  Eoy  McCaskie  made  was 
that  he  had  never  seen  an  English  captain  of  horse  in  the 
least  like  Austin  Tredennis. 

They  were  standing  together  at  the  door  of  the  Thieves' 
Hole.  For  the  soldier  had  drawn  back  in  disgust  from  the 
miserable  interior  and  the  reeking  abominations  that 
struck  him  in  the  face  with  more  than  the  pain  of  a  blow. 

*  The  present  celebrated  Mr.  Howard. 


THE    DARK    0"    THE     MOON 

The  provost's  gurgle  settled  matters.  It  irritated  Austin 
even  more  than  the  accumulated  odors  of  the  Thieves' 
Hole  of  Kirkcudbright. 

"  Observe,"  he  said,  laying  one  gloved  finger  in  the 
palm  of  the  other  hand,  "  I  am  in  this  shire  of  Galloway 
with  certain  powers  of  command,  and  I  can  suit  my 
actions  to  my  conceptions  of  military  necessity.  I  can  call 
upon  you,  as  the  responsible  head  of  this  burgh  council,  to 
assist  me !  Now  I  will  not  dispose  of  these  untried  pris- 
oners— one  of  them  a  woman,  and  another  evidently  of 
gentle  birth  and  breeding — like  beasts  that  are  driven  to 
market !  If  you  do  not  find  me  some  safe  and  decent  place 
where  I  can  lodge  these  prisoners  in  ward — by  the  Lord, 
sir  provost,  I  will  quarter  them,  every  one,  in  your  own 
house,  and  set  a  picket  outside  the  door !" 

The  chief  magistrate  fell  back  in  absolute  astonishment. 

"  Do  you  ken  to  whom  ye  speak,  captain  ?"  he  cried.  "  I 
am  Eoy  McCaskie,  a  second  cousin  o'  the  ex-provost  o' 
Paisley,  and  whenever  the  Yerl  o'  Kirkham  comes  to  the 
toon  he  never  yince  passes  my  door !  So  ye  had  better 
caa'  canny,  wi'  your  English  assurance !  I  can  tell  ye,  my 
man,  I  hae  gotten  brisker  laddies  than  you  cashiered  for 
less !" 

"  I  do  not  give  a  candle-end,"  said  the  soldier,  "  for  a 
score  of  provosts,  with  all  their  councils  at  their  tails  (and 
not  a  clean- washed  man  among  them) — no,  nor  yet  for 
earls  of  Kirkham  either,  by  the  gross  or  bale !  I  have  my 
instructions  and  my  discretion.  Do  as  I  bid  you,  Mr. 
McCaskie,  or  I  will  quarter  these  my  prisoners  upon  you — 
ay,  and  see  that  they  are  kept  in  the  best  of  bed  and 
board  at  your  private  charges  till  such  time  as  you  pro- 
vide fitting  accommodation  for  them  elsewhere !" 

Thus  brought  up  upon  the  short  rein,  the  provost  sud- 
denly remembered  an  alternative  which  might  otherwise 
have  escaped  him.  He  held  up  his  hand,  and  the  whole 
expression  of  his  face  changed. 

212 


THE    PROVOST'S    SPIRITS 

"  Dear  mc,  Captain  Tredennis,"  he  exclaimed,  "  dinna 
stot  aff  like  a  baa'  alT  a  gable-end.  I  declare  I  shall  forget 
my  ain  name  next.  I  am  no  fit  to  be  Robin  the  toon's 
drummer,  let  alane  provost !  It  is  true  that  the  gaol  o' 
Kirkcudbright  is  nocht  less  than  a  fair  disgrace.  But,  ye 
see,  the  common  guid  o'  the  toon  has  been  in  a  sair  state 
for  a  while,  what  wi'  the  Levellers  dingin'  doon  the  park 
waa's  and  but  little  comin'  in !  But  after  this  year  the 
thing  will  be  different.  For  Treasurer  Bailie  Todd  and  me 
hae  ta'en  the  parks  on  a  lang  lease  atween  us,  and  gin 
I'm  spared  till  Martinmas  I  can  assure  you,  major,  that  the 
Thieves'  Hole  shall  be  pitten  in  a  state  o'  thorough  repair !" 

"  But,  my  excellent  provost,"  said  Austin,  grimly,  "  Mar- 
tinmas is  a  long  way  off,  and  in  the  mean  time  you  may 
be  as  tired  of  providing  house-room  for  my  prisoners  and 
their  guard,  as  I  shall  be  of  seeing  to  it  that  everything  is 
done  to  my  satisfaction." 

"  Oh,  colonel,"  said  the  now  alarmed  magistrate,  "  I 
didna  mean  that — I  was  far  frae  meaniu'  that.  But — to 
tell  ye  the  truth — there  is  a  place  where  they  might  be 
warded  safely  eneuch.  But — I  hardly  like  to  mention 
it  to  a  braw  King's  man — the  fact  is  that  Bailie  Todd  and 
me,  and  a  wheen  ither  decent  men  wi'  an  interest  in  the 
common  guid  o'  the  community  at  lairge,  hae  a  kind  o' 
private  store  o'  barrels,  juist  bits  o'  casks  and  puncheons 
an'  sic  like — some  o'  them  fu'  an  some  o'  them  empty — that 
we  are  no  juist  anxious  to  hae  ony  exciseman's  gaugin' 
stick  mixin'  and  mellin'  wi — " 

"  In  fact,  provost,"  said  Captain  Tredennis,  smiling, 
"  you  have  in  this  town  a  Thieves'  Hole  and  a  Smugglers' 
Hole,  both  under  the  direct  patronage  of  the  magistracy ! 
Well,  well !  I  am  no  exciseman,  but  a  plain  soldier.  I 
have  no  commission  to  tap  your  casks,  though  I  would 
advise  you  to  lock  them  carefully  in  a  part  of  your  cellars 
where  my  lads  cannot  get  at  them,  or  you  may  chance 
upon  an  empty  keg  or  two,  and  I  find  the  sergeant's  guard 

213 


THE     DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

hopping  at  the  triangles.  But  lead  the  way,  provost,  and 
let  us  see  these,  your  private  cellars." 

"  'Deed,  to  tell  ye  the  truth.  General,"  said  the  anxious 
magistrate,  "  it's  neither  mair  nor  less  than  juist  in  the 
auld  castle — what  folks  caa's  Maclellan's  Wark.  It  was 
biggit  some  fifty  or  a  hunder  years  syne  by  the  grand  auld 
Maclellans,  that  were  Lords  o'  Kirkcudbrie  for  mony's  the 
year.  But  afore  ever  they  gat  it  plenished,  so  the  story 
gangs,  the  siller  gaed  dune,  or  the  bottom  fell  oot  o'  the 
meal  ark — or  something — and  whush — the  ]\Iaclellans  were 
a'  gane !  Nocht  left  but  an  auld  sang,  and  thae  waa's  up 
there  that  hae  never  been  ony  doom's  guid  to  leevin'  sowl ! 

"  But  here  we  are,  captain,  an'  gin  ye  will  tell  your 
troopers  to  hand  a  kennin'  farther  aff,  and  gie  their  best 
attention  to  the  prisoners,  I'll  be  terrible  obleegit  till  ye. 
There's  maybes  a  bit  anker  or  twa  o'  brandy  that  micht  be 
seen  if  the  door  was  opened  untimeous-like.  I  hae  had  the 
rauckle  yett  sealed  wi'  the  toon  seal,  whilk  I  cairry  con- 
venient-like in  my  pooch  here  for  the  purpose,  wi'  a  guid 
wad  o'  the  excellent  sealing-wax  that  we  use  for  our  char- 
ters. For  it  is  oor  plan  in  the  municipawlity  that  a' 
thing  be  dune  decently  and  in  order,  and,  'deed,  that  has 
aye  been  my  ain  aim  an'  motty — " 

"  Very  right,  provost,"  said  Austin  Tredennis. 

The  chief  of  the  burgh  magistracy  looked  cautiously  over 
his  shoulder  to  see  that  no  curious  spectator  approached 
too  near.  Then  he  drew  forth  a  book  from  his  breast- 
pocket, and,  opening  it,  read  hastily  and  in  a  loud  and 
solemn  tone  somewhat  as  follows:  "  Let  all  spirits  of  evil 
depart  from  this  dwelling,  and  suffer  only  such  things  as 
are  of  good  report  to  dwell  here !  I  exorcise  the  deevil ! 
Michty,  I  forget  the  rest —  There  will  be  horse  and 
hiring  fares  in  the  following  places  in  Scotland  at  the 
undermentioned  dates:  Airberdeen  the  20th  o'  Aprile, 
Alyth  the  Gth  o'  June,  Biggar  the  29th  o'  September!" 
At  this  he  looked  about  and  shut  the  book  with  the  same 

214 


THE    PEOVOST'S    SPIEITS 

caution  as  before.     "  I  think  that  will  do,  captain !     We 
can  gang  in  noo !" 

"  And  what,  in  the  name  of  fortune,  may  be  the  meaning 
of  this  idiocy?"  cried  the  captain  of  horse,  who  had  an 
idea  that  he  was  being  played  with. 

"  Hand  your  paitience  a  wee  langer,  captain,  and  ye 
will  see.  Ye  understan'  they  are  a  verra  superstitious  folk 
here  in  Kirkcoobrie,  an'  what's  pitten  into  folk  by  the 
Powers  abune  is  there  to  Ije  made  use  o'  by  somebody. 
T^oo,  the  bodies  will  threep  doon  your  throat  that  this  auld 
biggin'  is  hauntit  wi'  speerits.  And  so  it  is — conjunctly 
and  severalh' — though  no  by  the  kind  o'  speerits  they 
mean.  Nae  ill  speerits  ever  comes  across  the  sea  in  my 
boaties !  And  sae  a  wise  magistracy,  wi'  the  common  guid 
of  the  toon  at  heart,  do  their  best  to  preserve  sic  auncient 
and  weel-befittin'  feelin's  atween  the  dead  and  the  leevin'. 
Forbye,  there's  no  yin  o'  the  craiturs  wad  pit  a  fit  inside 
the  place  at  nicht  for  a'  the  gowd  o'  the  Indies.  We  hae 
seen  to  that  oorsel's  !" 

"  But  what  was  all  that  nonsense  you  read  out  of  a 
book?  And  was  it  not  from  the  Bible?  I  thought  you 
Scots  folk  were  monstrously  particular  about  blasphemy 
and  such  things?" 

"  The  Bible  !  Hear  till  the  man  !  Ka,  na  !  It  was  just 
the  Belfast  Almanach,  and  when  I  forget  what  auld  An- 
drew Cameron  (that  was  the  great  hand  at  exorcesin')  used 
to  say,  I  e'en  gang  on  wi'  the  list  o'  fairs,  and  times  when 
the  tide  is  fu'  at  the  pier  o'  Leith,  an'  siclike  things  as  that. 
There's  neither  Bible  nor  Psalm-book  about  the  maitter. 
I  wad  hae  ye  ken  that  Eoy  McCaskie,  thrice  provost  o'  Kirk- 
coobrie, has  mair  respeck  for  revealed  releegion  than  that !" 

By  this  time  they  were  in  the  great  hall  of  Maclellan's 
Wark,  and  truly  there  were  many  reasons  visible  to  the 
least  suspicious  eye  why  an  enlightened  magistracy  should 
not  wish  to  have  the  officers  of  his  Majesty's  excise  ad- 
mitted to  the  secrets  of  their  haunted  towers. 

215 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

"  Bide  ye  here  a  wee,  captain,"  said  the  provost,  "  an' 
I'll  gang  fetch  Bailie  Todd  and  Dean  of  Guild  Georgie 
Sproat,  that  is  as  decent  a  lad  as  ever  lifted  a  toddy  ladle 
to  see  gin  the  sugar  was  meltit.  I'm  gettin'  a  wee  short  i' 
the  puff  mysel',  and  I  canna  face  the  removal  o'  a'  thae 
barrels  single-handed." 

During  the  provost's  absence  Austin  Tredennis  poked 
about  in  various  recesses  here  and  there  in  the  ancient 
walls,  and  among  other  things  discovered  that  a  dozen  of 
rooms  had  recently  been  roughly  boarded  off,  and  that 
five  or  six  of  them  could  easily  be  rendered  available  for 
cells  and  guard-rooms.  But  what  amused  him  most  was  to 
find  in  a  recess  of  the  first  floors  a  singularly  cosey  apart- 
ment, fitted  not  only  with  a  table,  chairs,  a  fireplace  and 
kettle,  but  with  the  very  toddy  ladles  and  rummer  of  which 
the  provost  had  spoken,  and,  indeed,  all  the  necessaries  for 
producing  an  immediate  and  considerable  elevation  of 
spirits  among  the  members  of  this  deserving  and  enlight- 
ened magistracy. 

But  several  robes  of  extraordinary  appearance  next  drew 
his  attention.  These  had  apparently  been  manufactured 
out;  of  white  sheeting,  deeply  stained  with  red.  Next  came 
a  double  length  of  plough  chain  of  unusual  thickness,  and 
a  sheet  of  thin  iron  all  crinkled  and  bossed  like  a  sheet  of 
paper  that  has  been  wet  and  dried  again,  which  last  com- 
pletely puzzled  him. 

He  was  still  standing  with  the  stiff  white  sheets  in  his 
hand  when  the  provost  returned,  with  two  men  following 
close  behind  him.  One  man  was  old  and  very  sober-looking, 
with  a  formal  upper-lip,  which  was,  however,  slightly  con- 
tracted by  the  twinkle  of  sly  humor  in  the  corners  of  his 
eyes.  Him  the  soldier  set  down  at  once  as  Treasurer  Bailie 
Todd.  Nor  was  he  far  wrong,  for  the  introduction  was 
immediately  accomplished ;  while  his  comrade,  a  tall,  good- 
looking,  buirdly  young  man,  with  rosy  cheeks  and  an  in- 
fectious laugh,  was  stated  to  be  "  Maister  Dean  o'  Guild 

216 


THE    PEOVOST'S    SPIKITS 

Sproat,  and  the  best  falla'  in  twal'  coonties !"  added  Pro- 
vost Eoy  McCaskie,  slapping  his  back  with  joyous  par- 
ticularity. 

"  I  see  ye  hae  gotten  haud  o'  oor  ghaist's  claes,  captain," 
said  the  chief  magistrate.  "  Ye  see,  we  are  a  set  o'  quaite 
folk  hereaway,  and  a  wee  thing  gangs  a  lang  gate.  And, 
faith,  gin  it  werena  for  the  terrible  ghaists  in  Maclellan's 
Auld  Wark,  there  wad  be  nocht  to  pass  the  time  o'  day 
aboot  in  the  burgh,  but  the  day  an'  date  when  Aggie  ]\Iuir's 
cat  is  gaun  to  kittle  and  wha's  Tarn  was  the  daddie  o't! 
But  as  we  that  are  in  the  magistracy  ken  weel,  Satan  finds 
wark  for  idle  fowk's  tongues  as  weel  as  for  their  fingers. 
Sae  we  like  to  gie  the  guidwives  something  to  keckle  aboot 
— no  ower  aften,  ye  ken,  but  raaybes  twice  i'  the  month,  that 
familiarity  may  no  juist  breed  contempt,  as  the  sayin'  is ! 

"  Geordie,  there,  in  a  white  sheet  an'  a  splotch  or  twa 
o'  guid  cairt  red  dreepin'  frae  his  breast  is  eneuch  to  scaur 
the  verra  saunts  abune  frae  their  harpin' !  Pegs,  he  gars 
the  hair  on  my  auld  pow  rise  up  like  bristles,  and  when 
we  three  are  at  it  full  blast,  wi'  Geordie  standin'  bleatin' 
like  a  dementi t  sheep  on  the  riggin  o'  this  auld  pile,  and 
the  bailie — decent  man— dancin'  on  the  sheet  iron  like  a 
hen  on  a  het  girdle,  and  me  doin'  my  best  at  trailing  the 
pleuch  chains  alang  the  board  floors  and  up  and  doon  the 
stairs — I  declare  it's  fair  Pandemonium  an'  Gehenna 
spoken  thegither  in  auld  Maclellan's  Wark.  But  it's  at  its 
finest  in  a  thunder-storm.  The  verra  minister,  when  he 
cam'  to  see  it,  gaed  hame  that  wat  wi'  fear  that  they  had  to 
pit  a'  his  claes  oot  on  the  line  neist  mornin'  early !  Man ! 
it's  juist  doom's  graund,  that's  a  fack !  And  then  we  hae 
a  bit  drappie  ben  here,  and,  syne  to  settle  the  drinks  weel 
doon,  we  gang  oot  every  hour  or  twa  an'  tak'  anither  turn 
at  the  speeritual  eddication  o'  the  burgh  !" 

"  You  do  well,  provost  and  magistrates !"  said  Captain 
Tredennis. 

217 


XXX 

A   MASTERFUL   MAN 

WITHIN  an  hour  the  boarded  chambers  of  Mae- 
lellan's  Wark  had  been  freed  of  their  hoard  of  kegs, 
ankers,  puncheons,  and  casks,  while  within  the  same 
period  the  three  leading  members  of  the  enlightened  magis- 
tracy of  Kirkcudbright  were  in  a  state  of  profuse  perspira- 
tion. In  some  cases  the  rooms,  especially  those  on  the 
ground  floor,  had  been  originally  planned  but  left  un- 
finished, and  in  others  they  had  been,  as  it  were,  carved 
out  of  the  general  space  of  the  interior. 

The  prisoners,  upon  being  taken  into  Maclellan's  Wark, 
were  placed  each  in  the  chamber  set  apart  for  them.  The 
room  appointed  for  Marion  was  placed  midway  between 
that  of  Joyce  Faa  and  the  gypsy  Harry  Polwart,  possibly 
with  an  idea  of  preventing  these  two  complices  from  com- 
municating. The  guards  were  established  in  a  large  open 
space  beside  the  main  door- way,  and  Captain  Austin  Tre- 
dennis,  who  did  not  desire  to  put  himself  under  any  obli- 
gations of  hospitality  to  the  provost  or  other  citizen,  took 
up  his  quarters  in  the  chamber  which  they  had  appor- 
tioned and  provisioned  for  their  private  revels. 

Throughout  the  tov/n,  many  were  the  dismal  prophecies 
of  what  would  happen  when  once  "  the  ghaists  o'  the  auld 
Maclellans,"  discovering  earthly  intruders  upon  their  do- 
main, should  arise  and  wreak  their  vengeance.  While 
the  fact  that  during  the  whole  of  tliis  tenancy  the  spectres 
did,  indeed,  cease  to  gibber  blood-boltercd  on  the  battlc- 

218 


A    MASTERFUL    MAN 

ments  was  put  clown  to  Joyce  and  Harry  being  gypsies, 
and,  therefore,  "  sib  to  the  deil,  wha  is  aye  kind  to  his 
ain." 

Of  the  three  captives,  Harry  Polwart,  a  thorough  fatal- 
ist like  all  his  people,  threw  himself  on  the  pallet-bed  which 
had  been  liastily  provided  by  the  provost,  and  lay  there 
sleepless  through  the  night  watches,  his  hands  pressed 
upon  his  aching  eyeballs.  He  had  no  hopes,  no  fears,  and 
it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  be  afraid  of  that  which  only 
might  be.    Whatever  came,  it  would  tind  him  ready. 

Joyce  was  chiefly  conscious  of  a  reprieve.  The  marriage 
to  which  she  had  sold  herself  for  the  sake  of  another's  life 
had  not  taken  place.  But,  nevertheless,  she  held  herself 
pledged  to  Harry  Polwart,  and  was  as  determined  as  ever 
to  carry  out  her  promise  if,  and  when,  opportunity  should 
occur.  Whether  or  no  the  man  was  a  murderer  did  not 
greatly  trouble  her.  If  this  thing  were  true,  it  had  been 
done  by  her  father's  orders;  and,  knowing  Hector  Faa  as 
she  did,  she  would  not  greatly  blame  any  of  his  followers 
for  obeying  him.  But,  meantime,  the  four  massive  walls  of 
Maclellan's  Wark,  the  solitude,  and  the  time  of  respite, 
were  not  unwelcome.  Joyce  did  not  think  much,  for,  as 
she  has  borne  witness  since,  she  had  determined  to  shut  the 
thought  of  a  certain  Maxwell  Heron  out  of  her  heart. 

Marion  alone  set  herself  down  to  understand  and  define 
her  position  in  all  its  bearings — her  chances  and  dangers, 
her  present  situation  and  future  action.  My  mother  and 
Grisel  had  remained  with  her  as  long  as  they  were  allowed, 
and  it  was  only  the  absolute  order  of  Captain  Tredennis 
which  prevented  both  of  these  loving  and  impulsive  women 
from  remaining  all  night  in  the  prison.  When  my  mother 
found  herself  extruded  she  sought  out  Jasper  Jamie,  and, 
bidding  him  get  horses,  insisted  on  setting  out  imme- 
diately for  Orraland. 

"  It  is  barely  eight  mile  over  the  hill,  and  the  time  an 
hour  from  sundown !     Think  shame  o'  ye,  Jasper  Jamie, 

219 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

that  ye  wad  let  puir  Marion  die  for  the  want  of  guid 
advice !" 

To  know  my  mother  in  such  a  mood  was  to  obey  her — 
that  is,  save  in  the  case  of  my  father,  who  had  his  own 
methods. 

For,  though  May  IMischief  retained  her  old  proclivity 
for  getting  into  scrapes,  and  sometimes  to  his  very  face 
voted  her  husband  slow  and  matter-of-fact,  yet  she  had 
more  than  her  ancient  respect  for  his  opinion,  and  often 
came  running  to  him,  not  only  with  her  own,  but  with 
other  people's  difficulties. 

If  Patrick  Heron  could  not  help — why,  there  was  no 
help  in  man !  So  at  least  thought  May  Mischief  after 
twenty-five  3'ears.- 

The  autumn  night  held  a  chill  in  it,  and  in  the  grim  old 
keep  of  Maclellan's  Wark  the  mortar  dripped  damp  upon 
the  walls.  The  unplancd  boards  wept  at  the  seams.  A 
pillow  hard  as  a  door-mat,  a  pallet-bed  on  which  a  maid- 
servant might  have  slept,  an  old  torn  blanket — these  con- 
stituted her  equipment  of  the  night.  And  since,  through 
the  unglazed  but  barred  window,  the  wind  blew  in  fresh  and 
wet  from  the  sea,  Marion  shivered.  Yet,  to  do  her  justice, 
discomfort,  and  not  fear,  caused  the  tremor. 

That  she  had  incurred  the  extreme  penalty  of  the  law 
by  the  crime  of  rebellion,  she  knew  well.  That  Colonel 
Gunter  would  pursue  the  Chief  of  the  Levellers  to  the 
uttermost  she  was  sure  of  also,  for  such  was  his  approven 
character.  Whenever  she  thought  detci-niinedly  upon  the 
matter  it  seemed  a  terrible  thing  enough  that  she  should 
die  so  young,  but  yet  somehow  the  idea  did  not  remain 
long  with  her.  Her  mind  wandered  off  to  other  things, 
and  more  than  once  she  found  herself  smiling.  The  scene 
at  the  manse  had  certainly  been  amusing.  She  wondered 
if  she  would  ever  again  see  Greg  Payterson.  Oh  yes!  of 
course — at  the  trial.     Then  she  fell  to  wondering  if  she 

220 


A    MASTEEFUL    MAN 

would  be  tried  at  the  same  time  as  the  gypsies.  What  a 
beautiful  girl !  No  wonder  Maxwell  loved  her.  But  that 
she  should  love  Maxwell  Heron — a  girl  like  that — Marion 
thought  it  unlikely.  The  blind  gypsy,  now,  to  whom  she 
had  been  on  the  point  of  being  married !  He  was  a  dark, 
lowering  fellow  enough;  blind,  too,  and  with  a  terrible 
look  as  of  one  recently  smitten.  But,  after  all,  Marion 
could  not  imagine  any  one  being  long  in  love  with — at  least, 
not  after  knowing . 

She  meditated  a  while  here,  and  found  herself  returning 
to  the  point  from  which  she  had  set  out. 

Did  this  beautiful  Joyce  Faa  love  the  blind  gypsy  or — 
Max  Heron  ?  She  wished  she  could  ask  her.  With  Marion 
of  the  Isle  to  resolve  was  to  act  immediately — that  is,  if 
action  were  at  all  within  the  realms  of  possibility. 

She  remembered  that  she  had  seen  the  soldiers  put  Joyce 
into  the  chamber  to  the  left  of  her  own. 

Could  she  hear  if  she  called,  or,  hearing,  would  she 
answer  ? 

She  tapped  lightly  on  the  woodwork  with  the  knuckle 
of  her  finger.  There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then 
a  low  voice  answered : 

"  Harry,  is  it  your  eyes?    Do  they  pain  you?" 

"  It  is"  not  Harry  It  is  1— Dick  of  the  Isle !"  said 
Marion. 

"  I  do  not  know  you — I  have  nothing  to  say  to  you. 
What  do  you  want  with  Joyce  Faa?" 

"  With  Joyce  Faa  nothing.  Only  to  know  if  she  loves 
Maxwell  Heron  ?" 

There  was  a  deep  silence  over  the  prison,  and  the  rough 
laugh  of  a  trooper  in  the  outer  hall  jarred  upon  both  of 
them. 

"  By  what  right  do  you  ask  that  question,  Dick  of  the 
Isle,  if  that  be  your  name  ?    What  is  it  to  you  ?" 

"  It  is  nothing  to  me,  and  yet  I  ask  it,"  came  the  answer 
back. 

221 


THE    DAKK    0'    THE     MOON 

"  It  is  a  woman's  question,"  said  Joyce  Faa,  "  and  yet 
you  are  not  a  woman.  Did  any  one  by  the  shore  of  Sol- 
way — one  whom  he  loved — bid  you  ask  that  question  of 
meV' 

"  No  one !"  said  Marion,  instantly  relieved  in  her  turn 
from  a  fear  that  she  had  discovered  her  sex.  "  Max  Heron 
never  loved  any  one  in  his  life — save  himself !" 

"  That  again  is  a  woman's  bitterness,"  said  Joyce,  "  and 
yet  you  are  not  a  woman !  Why  do  you  hate  Maxwell 
Heron  ?    Uid  he  ever  do  you  an  injury  ?" 

"  Max  Heron !  Nay,  verily !"  I  fear  her  tone  was  a 
little  contemptuous.  "  He  would  no  more  do  any  one  an 
injury  than  a  mavis  that  sings  in  the  meadow  copses." 

There  was  a  long  and  quiet  pause  in  the  chamber  of 
Joyce  Faa.  Then  came  the  words :  "  You  are  a  woman ! 
You  cannot  deceive  me,  who  am  a  woman  also !  And  if 
you  do  not  love  Maxwell  Heron,  sure  I  am  that  your  heart 
swayed  towards  him  once." 

Then  it  was  the  time  of  silence  in  i\Iarion's  chamber. 
She  was  debating  with  herself  whether  to  confide  in  this 
wild  girl  of  the  hills — who  stood  accused  of  murder,  and 
might  go  to  the  gallows.  Then  Marion  smiled  a  little 
bitterly.  For  that  was  also  where  she  had  some  likelihood 
of  finding  herself,  and  what  right  had  she  to  be  proud  with 
Joyce  Faa?  She  was  alone,  in  prison,  and  the  girl  might 
help  her.    At  least  there  would  be  two  of  them. 

"  Put  your  head  down  and  listen  very  closely,"  she  said 
at  last.  "  There  is  a  crack  in  the  partition  here.  I  will 
tell  you,  if  you  will  also  tell  me  the  thing  which  I  asked 
you." 

She  could  hear  Joyce  Faa  moving  to  obey  her. 

"  It  is  true — the  thing  you  say — I  am  a  girl,"  said 
Marion,  "  and  once,  before  I  knew  what  men  there  were  in 
the  world,  I  was  in  danger  of — of  loving  one  who  could 
not  have  loved  me — who  cannot  love  as  men  love !  But  I 
stayed  myself  in  time !" 

222 


A    MASTERFUL    MAN 

Beyond  the  partition  there  was  a  sound  like  a  quick  sob 
in  the  listener's  throat,  and  the  words  came  back : 

"  And  I  did  not  stay  myself — till  it  was  too  late !"  mur- 
mured Joyce. 

"  God  help  all  women — let  men  take  care  of  themselves !" 
returned  IMarion,  devoutly. 

So,  in  this  fashion,  two  women  drew  themselves  to  one 
another  within  the  grim,  damp  heart  of  Maclellan's  Wark. 

And  while  they  communed  thus  there  came  the  sound 
of  a  padlock  being  unlocked,  then  the  click  of  the  dropping 
hinge,  and  the  door  of  Marion's  prison-room  opened.  It 
was  Captain  Austin  Tredennis  who  entered.  He  was  still 
in  his  campaigning  dress,  which,  though  the  full  uniform 
of  his  corps,  was  of  rougher  and  stronger  material  than 
is  common  among  young  captains  of  horse.  For  it  had  not 
been  Austin  Tredennis's  hap  to  be  able  to  afford  many  suits 
of  uniform. 

"  Good-evening  to  you,"  he  said,  his  stern  face  relaxing 
a  little.  "  It  appeared  to  me  that,  as  I  understand  that  you 
are  of  some  birth  and  breeding,  I  might  be  able  to  afford 
you  such  facilities  for  communicating  with  your  friends 
as  my  duty  allows,  or  in  some  other  way  of  enabling  you 
to  meet  the  grave  charges  which  are  preferred  against  you. 
If  there  is  any  way  in  which  I  can  do  this,  pray  command 
me.  You  will  find  that  I  am  a  man  who  means  what  he 
says — it  may  be  a  little  more,  certainly  no  less." 

He  set  down  the  lantern  he  carried,  having  first  of  all 
opened  the  case  and  stuck  the  candle  on  the  top  in  a  place 
appointed  for  it.  Then  he  pulled  an  empty  keg  out  from 
an  angle  of  the  wall,  and  sat  down  upon  it  in  the  strong, 
easy  attitude  of  a  man  accustomed  to  all  chances  by  land 
and  sea. 

"  Do  you  sit  also  and  let  us  talk,"  he  said.  "  I  have  had 
a  great  deal  of  experience,  and  know  well  that  young  men 
will  often  venture  their  necks  in  very  poor  causes  for  the 

233 


THE    DARK    0'     THP]     MOON 

sake  of  the  adventure.  But  there  may  be  ways  out.  There 
generally  are  when  one  is  one-and-twenty.  I  hear  you  are 
a  pretty  shot.  Young  Gunter  tells  me  you  disarmed  his 
father  in  the  moonlight  at  ten  paces.  If  you  fence  as  well 
as  you  shoot,  young  man,  you  should  be  dangerous  on  the 
grass  at  daybreak !" 

"  I  can  play  a  little  with  the  sabre,"  said  Marion,  mod- 
estly, "  but  I  hardly  know  how  to  hold  a  foil.  Moreover, 
my  wrist  is  not  strong  enough  for  fence." 

'*  Let  me  see,"  said  the  soldier,  and,  ere  his  prisoner 
realized  what  he  was  doing,  he  had  hor  hand  in  his,  and 
was  giving  serious  regard  to  the  pretty,  slenderish  fingers 
and  the  palm,  wliich  Clarion  of  the  Isle  would  have  given 
a  thousand  pounds  at  that  moment  to  have  rendered  strong 
and  coarse. 

But  after  all  he  said  nothing.  He  only  looked  a  while 
at  the  blue-veined  wrist  and  the  taper  fingers.  Then  he 
let  them  drop  abruptly,  and  with  a  yawn  and  stretch  he 
drew  a  little,  oblong  metal  box  out  of  his  pocket, and, rolling 
a  twisted  paper  of  tobacco,  fine  almost  as  dust,  he  looked 
at  his  prisoner  and  said,  as  he  licked  the  edges  together, 
"  A  foreign  habit,  sir,  and  a  good  one.  I  learned  it  from  a 
Spaniard  in  the  prison  at  Namur,  in  the  Low  Countries. 
You  should  acquire  it.  Nothing  passes  the  time  so  well 
when  one  is  not  one's  own  master." 

"  Then  you  also  have  been  in  prison  ?"  said  Marion, 
smiling,  and  glad  to  change  the  subject  on  any  terms. 

"  More  times  than  I  care  to  think  of,"  said  Austin 
Tredennis.  "  I  have  not  followed  the  wars  for  twenty 
years  without  many  ups  and  downs,  and,  indeed,  this  is 
the  only  peaceful  business  I  was  ever  in." 

He  smiled  as  he  spoke,  as  it  seemed  to  the  girl,  a  little 
indulgently. 

"  I  do  not  call  it  a  peaceful  business !"  cried  Marion, 
hastily,  "  when  men  born  and  bred  on  their  little  cottage 
plots  and  tenements  are  turned  adrift  to  die  on  the  hill- 

224 


A    MASTEEFUL    MAN 

side !  It  is  no  time  to  cry  '  Peace  !  peace  !'  when  there  is  no 
peace  !  Some  one  must  fight  for  them — why  not  I  ?  Some 
one  must  lead  them — why  not  I  ?" 

"  I  think  there  is  an  obvious  answer  to  that  last  ques- 
tion," said  Austin  Tredennis,  "  but  I  will  not  give  it  now." 

He  inhaled  the  smoke  of  the  little  roll  of  Spanish  tobacco 
and  breathed  it  softly  through  his  nostrils,  till  it  came 
into  Marion's  mind  (who  had  never  seen  the  like  before) 
that  it  was  like  the  breathing  of  cattle  on  a  frosty  morning. 

And  looking  at  Captain  Austin,  she  seemed  to  herself 
the  most  pitiable  and  laughable  imitation  of  true  man- 
hood. Accustomed  chiefly  to  men  inferior  in  station,  like 
the  cottiers  whom  she  led,  or  somewhat  younger  in  years 
like  Jasper  Jamie  and  myself,  Marion  felt  that  this  man 
somehow  shamed  her.  Each  act  and  trait  of  this  masterful 
soldier  deepened  the  impression.  The  deep  scar  cut  into 
his  chin,  instead  of  being  a  disfigurement,  seemed  the 
guinea-stamp  of  manhood.  The  very  way  he  had  with  his 
tobacco  smoke  seemed  delightfully  masculine  and  insolent. 
The  worn  sword-hilt  and  notched  scabbard  he  threw  upon 
the  little  table,  the  patched  uniform  and  threadbare  ac- 
coutrement, the  rubbed  riding-boots  a  trifle  down  at  the 
heel,  the  loose  and  jingling  spurs — all  seemed  part  of  a 
larger  personality  than  she  had  ever  known. 

How  pitiful,  paltry,  miserable  a  masquerade  it  all  had 
been — this  dainty  scarlet  and  gold  of  a  regiment  that  had 
never  faced  a  foe !  And  even  to  that  she  had  no  right. 
Slie  was  Marion,  the  daughter  of  Sammle  Tamson  of  Isle 
Eathan,  the  commonest  and  poorest  daw  tricked  out  in 
peacock's  feathers,  which  yet  could  deceive  no  one. 

She  wished  that  this  middle-aged,  plain-featured  war- 
captain  would  take  himself  off !  What  right  had  he  to 
intrude  himself  upon  his  prisoners?  She  was  prepared  to 
die — on  the  scaffold,  if  need  were.  But  to  have  this  large, 
cool,  masterful  man  sitting  breathing  smoke  gently 
through  his  nostrils,  and  taking  her  measure  as  a  trades- 
15  225 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

man  takes  the  size  of  a  foot  before  he  begins  to  cut  his 
leather — it  was  more  than  our  poor  Marion  could  bear. 

She  shivered  a  little  involuntarily,  at  which,  without  a 
word,  he  undid  the  clasp  of  his  great,  blue  military  cloak 
and  threw  it  with  careless  kindness  in  her  direction.  It 
had  a  criss-cross  curb  chain  that  jingled,  and  huge  brass 
buttons  with  the  arms  of  King  George  upon  them. 

*'  Take  that,"  he  said ;  "  1  do  not  feel  the  cold.  I  have 
come  from  America  but  lately,  where  ofttimes  we  slept 
comfortably  enough  among  the  snow." 

It  was  the  last  straw — that  and  the  jingling  of  the  curb 
chain.  Marion  rose  to  her  feet.  She  had  been  sitting 
upon  the  edge  of  her  pallet,  and  trying  to  conceal  as  much 
of  her  knees  as  possible  with  the  ragged  coverlet. 

"  I  do  not  want  your  cloak !"  she  cried,  flinging  it 
viciously  on  the  ground  and  stamping  upon  it.  "  You  in- 
sult me  by  coming  here  at  all !  I  hate  you !  I  know  why 
you  came,  and  I  despise  you  for  it !  It  was  a  spy's  act ! 
Do  you  hear — a  spy's  act,  and  unworthy  of  a  gentleman !" 

The  girl  stood  a  full  minute  gloriously  defiant.  Then 
something  clicked  somewhere  in  her  throat,  like  the  spring 
of  a  watch  when  it  breaks  in  the  winding.  And  the  gallant 
Dick  of  the  Isle,  Captain  of  all  the  Levellers  of  Galloway, 
rebel,  criminal,  and  probable  martyr  in  the  cause  of  liberty 
— burst  into  tears ! 

In  a  moment  Austin  Tredennis  had  sprung  up.  Quick 
as  thought  he  was  beside  her,  his  arm  was  about  her. 

"  My  child,  my  child !"  he  was  murmuring,  "  what  is 
this?  'Tell  me,  what  is  this?" 


XXXI 

THE    SON    OF    A    KING 

CAPTAIN  AUSTIN  TREDENNIS,  of  Ligonier's 
Horse,  was  steady  as  steel  in  the  face  of  danger.  Any 
man  of  his  regiment  would  have  told  you  as  much.  But  he 
could  also  be  fierce  and  indomitable  upon  provocation. 
Once  he  had  fought  a  duel  to  the  death  with  a  huge  Ger- 
man of  the  Palatinate  Eegiment,  and  left  that  maitre 
d'armes  for  dead  on  the  field.  But  here  in  the  little,  bare, 
damp  cell  of  Maclellan's  Wark  he  was  certainly  strangely 
affected,  and  that  without  manifest  cause.  He  felt  all  the 
agitations  and  tremulous  forebodings  of  a  stripling  girl 
first  touched  by  love. 

Leaving  Marion  a  moment  to  herself,  he  stepped  swiftly 
to  the  door,  and  let  the  gleam  of  the  lantern  with  which 
he  went  his  rounds  fall  on  the  heaped  casks  and  barrel- 
staves  which  still  cumbered  the  hall»  He  saw  nothing, 
but,  nevertheless,  in  the  feeble  light,  it  seemed  to  him  as 
if  a  shadow  darted  behind  a  hogshead  between  him  and  the 
great  door.  He  went  to  the  spot,  but  found  nothing  save 
a  heap  of  matting  and  straw.  Yet  Austin  Tredennis  was 
not  wholly  satisfied,  as  he  went  back  thoughtfully  to  the 
cell  where  he  had  left  the  bold  Chief  of  the  Levellers  sob- 
bing, with  her  face  between  her  hands. 

Had  he  dared,  he  would  have  posted  a  sentinel  within 
the  great  hall  as  well  as  without.  But  it  came  to  him  with 
a  sudden  shock  that  he  might  find  himself  constrained  to 
certain  acts  contrary  to  his  commission  and  the  articles 


THE    DAEK    0'     THE    MOON 

of  -war,  in  which  case  it  would  certainly  be  better  to  be 
without  the  restraint  of  a  witness. 

"  And  now,*'  he  said,  sitting  down  beside  Marion,  "  tell 
me  all  about  it.  little  one." 

Pride  made  a  last  rally. 

"  I  will  not !"  said  the  girl,  pushing  out  her  hands,  "  I 
will  not !    I  would  die  first !" 

"  Very  likely,"  said  Austin  Tredennis,  quietly,  "  never- 
theless, you  are  going  to  tell  me — and  at  once,  for  there 
is  no  time  to  be  lost." 

And  so  resolute  was  his  manner,  so  assured  his  de- 
meanor, that  Marion  of  the  Isle,  mastered  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life,  found  herself  telling  this  King's  officer 
all  that  she  had  carefully  hidden  from  her  own  father — 
her  discontent  with  her  position,  her  anger  at  the  treat- 
ment of  the  poor  cottier  folk — indeed,  everything  she  had 
done  and  what  she  yet  hoped  to  do. 

Austin  Tredennis  sat  upon  the  low  truckle  bed  and 
listened  gravely.  He  did  not,  however,  repeat  the  first 
involuntary  caress  with  which  he  had  taken  the  girl  in 
his  arms  when  she  burst  into  angry  tears.  But  he  had 
wrapped  her  closely  in  his  great,  blue  military  cloak  with 
the  brass  clasp,  the  same  he  had  thrown  so  carelessly  across 
to  his  prisoner  half  an  hour  before.  For  this  hard-featured 
captain  of  horse,  whom  the  neglect  of  superiors  and  the 
fierce  accident  of  campaigning  had  left  little  different  in 
appearance  and  manner  from  a  common  soldier,  was  yet 
at  heart  a  gentleman  among  fine  gentlemen. 

But  when  he  had  heard  the  last  word  of  Marion's  talc 
and  the  sobs  had  somewhat  stilled  themselves,  he  still  sat 
thoughtful  and  grave,  his  mind  poised  between  the  long 
discipline  of  duty  and  this  sudden  eruptive  lava-burst  in 
his  bosom  which  constrained  him  to  break  with  the  regu- 
lated traditions  of  a  lifetime. 

At  last,  in  sheer  perplexity,  he  rose  and  paced  the  room. 

"  I  must  help  her,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  as  if  she 
228 


THE    SON^    OF    A    KING 

had  not  been  present,  adding,  a  moment  after,  "  whatever 
it  may  cost  me  !'' 

But  the  quick,  ardent  spirit  of  Marion  of  the  Isle  re- 
belled against  this  tone  in  a  stranger. 

"  iSTo,  no !"  she  cried,  recovering  herself ;  "  you  shall 
not  assist  me  to  your  own  cost.  I  will  not  have  help  on 
such  terms.  God  knows,  I  am  not  afraid  of  anything — 
only  bitterly  ashamed  to  be  seen  in  this  dress  of  mas- 
querade !  I  am  ready  as  any  one  to  die,  but  oh !  I  do  hate 
to  be  laughed  at !" 

Wherein  she  spoke  the  feeling  of  many,  not  only  of  her 
own,  but  of  her  assumed  sex. 

"  I  am  thinking  it  out,"  said  the  officer,  without  looking 
at  her  or  attending  to  what  she  said.  Look  you,  I  do  not 
care  a  jot  for  your  petty  local  politics  of  cotmen  and 
grazing  rights,  commonties  and  plantations.  But  I  own 
that  I  am  concerned  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  not  to 
obey  orders.  Yet  this  also  will  I  do  for  you,  if  I  lose  the 
King's  coat  off  my  back  for  the  deed !" 

And  there  was  something  in  the  grave  eyes  which  made 
Marion  turn  away  her  head — something  direct  and  mas- 
terful, yet  soft  also,  and  with  power  to  pull  at  her  heart- 
strings like  the  ropes  which  foresters  affix  to  a  tree  to 
direct  its  fall. 

"I  ask  of  you  but  one  thing,"  she  said,  with  averted 
eyes.  "  Permit  my  friends.  Mistress  Heron  of  Isle  Rathan 
and  her  daughter  Grisel,  to  send  me  the  garments  proper 
to  my  sex,  and  I  shall  ask  for  nothing  else." 

"Yes,  yes!"  he  said,  still  striding  up  and  down,  and 
pulling  at  his  great  mustache,  "  it  shall  be  done.  I  will 
ride  over  there  myself." 

The  girl  started  involuntarily. 

"  Oh  no !"  she  cried.  "  Do  not  go  away !  I  would 
rather  that  you  sent  a  letter !" 

It  was  a  subtle,  though  unintentional,  compliment,  and 
the  grave  man  blushed  a  little  imder  his  martial  tan.     It 

229 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

was  the  first  time  for  twenty  years  when  his  presence  or 
absence  had  made  a  difference  to  any  human  creature. 
Yet  Marion  had  intended  nothing  more  than  the  simplest 
statement  of  fact.  This  captain  had  penetrated  her  secret 
and  seemed  inclined  to  keep  it.  Others  who  might  be  left 
— blatant  young  officers  or  inquisitive  townsmen  in  au- 
thority— might  do  the  same,  without  his  reticence  or  his 
desire  to  serve  her.  In  brief,  she  did  not  wish  Captain 
Tredennis  to  ride  away  on  a  message  which  one  of  his 
troopers  would  perform  just  as  well. 

But  the  course  of  events  was  suddenly  altered  by  an 
occurrence  in  the  court-yard.  As  these  two  remained  to- 
gether within  the  narrow  limits  of  the  cell,  or,  rather, 
as  Marion  sat  and  Austin  Tredennis  strode  savagely  about, 
clanking  his  spurs  as  he  went,  there  came  from  without  a 
noise  of  the  clattering  feet  of  horses,  shouts,  neighings, 
and  all  the  pell-mell  attendant  on  the  arrival  of  a  con- 
siderable cavalcade.  This  was  followed  by  a  vehement 
pounding  upon  the  outer  door  of  Maclellan's  Wark. 

"  That  must  be  the  General  Fitzgeorge  !"  said  Tredennis, 
speaking  in  a  low  and  genuinely  alarmed  voice.  "  I  had 
notice  of  his  coming,  but  did  not  expect  him  to  arrive  so 
soon.  For  Heaven's  sake,  let  him  not  see  you,  or  have  any 
suspicion  of  who  you  are  !  I  could  do  nothing  then !  Lie 
down  on  your  bed,  and  muffle  yourself  up  closely  in  this 
cloak !" 

"  The  general !"  Marion  was  beginning.  "  Why  should 
I  care  for  a  score  of  generals?" 

"Do  as  I  bid  you — do  you  hear?''  comni.andod  Tre- 
dennis, in  a  voice  so  hard  and  changed  that  Marion  hardly 
recognized  it.  Nevertheless,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
she  meekly  obeyed.  And,  thinking  the  matter  over  after- 
wards, she  decided  that  she  rather  liked  the  little  sensa- 
tion of  fear  which  struck  through  her  heart  when  she  heard 
him  speak  thus  to  her.  She  knew  now  how  he  spoke  to 
his  soldiers  in  time  of  danger. 

230 


THE    SON    OF    A    KING 

Then,  with  a  great  clanging  of  superfluous  doors  and 
clanking  of  scabbard,  Captain  Austin  finally  appeared  at 
the  door  of  Maclellan's  Wark,  somewhat  ostentatiously  rub- 
bing his  eyes,  and  with  a  button  or  two  of  his  tunic  un- 
fastened. 

It  was  indeed  the  distinguished  general  commanding 
all  his  Majesty's  forces  in  Scotland,  as  Tredennis  had  sup- 
posed, and  as,  indeed,  was  easy  to  be  seen,  even  by  the  dim 
light  of  the  lanterns  which  were  being  hurriedly  brought 
from  the  troop-stables. 

General  George  Fitzgeorge  was  known  to  have  royal 
blood  in  his  veins.  Indeed,  it  might  even  be  perceived, 
richly  florescent,  on  his  countenance.  He  was  also,  as  be- 
came his  ancestry,  a  professed  admirer  of  "  the  sex,"  and 
his  manner  of  receiving  any  reasonably  well-looking  woman 
suggested  that  he  was  considering  her  in  the  light  of  a 
possible  conquest.  He  had  (it  was  whispered)  been  horse- 
whipped once  or  twice ;  but  for  men  in  the  service  this  was 
an  expensive  luxury,  while  others  were  deterred  by  General 
Fitzgeorge's  early  fame  as  a  duellist.  Nevertheless,  there 
was  that  on  Austin  Tredennis's  face  when  he  opened  the 
door  of  Maclellan's  Wark  which  might  have  caused  even 
so  ancient  and  chartered  a  Hanoverian  as  General  Fitz- 
george to  pause,  if  he  had  not  been  too  excited  by  wine  to 
notice  it. 

"  Ah,  Tredennis !  Sly  dog — sly  dog !"  he  cried.  "  What 
do  you  mean  by  keeping  us  Avaiting?  Young  Gunter  tells 
me  that  you  have  a  deucedly  pretty  girl  here  as  prisoner 
in  this  old,  tumbledown  stone  box.  Keeping  her  all  to 
yourself — eh,  my  friend?  Well,  you  know  that  cock  won't 
fight  with  George  Fitzgeorge,  so  pick  up  3'our  lantern  and 
let  us  have  a  look  at  her  !" 

Behind  the  general  appeared  my  Lord  Kirkham — cor- 
rect, immobile,  and  with  infinite  respect  for  the  ancient 
blood  royal,  even  as,  somewhat  degraded  in  quality,  it 
coursed  through  the  veins  of  General  Fitzgeorge.     Also, 

231 


THE    DARK    0*    THE    MOO^t 

wonder  of  wonders !  The  Lady  Sylvia  was  of  the  party. 
The  fascinations  of  Jasper  Jamie  had  proved  as  tow  in  the 
fire  when  she  heard  that  the  handsome  young  officer,  pre- 
tended son  of  Patrick  Heron  of  Isle  Rathan,  was  indeed  a 
dangerous  and  rebellious  Captain  of  Levellers.  The  Lady 
Sylvia  scented  a  mystery,  and  thought  it  positively  charm- 
ing. 

"  General,"  said  my  Lord  Kirkham,  persuasively,  "  is 
it  not  time  that  we  should  make  our  way  to  my  to^vn 
house  ?  You  know  that  I  sent  on  a  servant  to  make  prep- 
arations for  our  visit  there?  Supper  will  be  on  the  table 
by  this  time !" 

But  he  appealed  in  vain  to  the  pleasures  of  the  table. 
The  general  had  other  fish  to  fry. 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort !"  cried  this  arrogant,  cross-barred 
descendant  of  kings.  "  We  will  see  on  the  instant  how 
and  with  whom  Tredennis  has  been  passing  his  time.  Open 
the  doors,  you  dog,  and  let  us  see  this  pretty  gypsy  lass  of 
yours !" 

Full  of  his  recent  discovery  with  regard  to  Marion, 
Austin  Tredennis  had,  for  the  moment,  quite  forgotten 
Joyce  Faa's  existence.  And  when  the  general  began  to 
speak  to  him  each  word  conveyed  to  him  the  impression 
that  the  secret  which  he  had  thought  his  own  was  no  secret 
at  all,  and  that  this  party  of  great  folk  had  come  to  Mac- 
lellan's  Wark  thus  untimeously  for  the  special  purpose 
of  shaming  Marion  in  her  gallant's  attire  of  scarlet  and 
blue.  But  no  sooner  did  he  perceive  that  she  was  still  un- 
discovered than  his  spirits  rose,  and,  manlike,  he  hastened 
to  sacrifice  poor  Joyce  (for  whom  he  cared  no  jot)  upon 
the  altar  of  curiosity,  that  the  girl  for  whom  he  did  care 
might  be  safe. 

"  You  are  welcome,  general,"  he  said,  gravely  saluting 
his. superior  officer,  and  standing  aside  for  the  party  to 
pass  within;  "the  arrangements  here  are  necessarily  but 
temporary,  and  of  the  rudest  kind.     But  I  took  it  upon 

233 


THE    SON    OF    A    KIN^G 

myself  to  refuse  to  quarter  my  prisoners  in  the  wretched 
thatched  hut  they  call  the  common  prison,  or  Thieves' 
Hole,  of  this  burgh." 

"  Quite  right,  sir,  quite  right !"  cried  the  general. 
"  These  little  provost  folk  need  keeping  in  order,  and  by 
the  blood  of  my  royal  father,  sir,  I  think  you.  Captain 
Tredennis,  are  the  man  to  do  it !  A  minute  ago  you  looked 
as  if  you  were  about  to  bar  the  path  of  your  commanding 
officer.  But,  as  my  lord  observes,  do  not  let  us  waste 
time.  Exhibit  your  beauty,  captain.  Let  us  see  if  she  is 
what  she  is  cracked  up  to  be.  Theo  Gunter  there  declares 
her  a  none-such,  but  at  his  age  anything  that  wears  petti- 
coats is  held  worthy  to  be  a  King's  mistress  !" 

Austin  Tredennis  moved  slowly  forward,  swinging  his 
lantern,  and  muttering  bitterly  between  his  clinched  teeth, 
"  If  I  were  in  your  place,  General  George  Fitzgeorge,  I 
would  not  speak  so  freely  of  King's  mistresses  !" 

"  Do  you  wish  to  see  the  gypsy  who  is  accused  of  the 
murder  of  the  exciseman,"  he  said  aloud,  "  or  only  the 
girl  who  was  captured  along  with  him?" 

"  Oh,  the  girl  by  all  means !"  cried  the  general.  "  It 
will  be  time  enough  to  see  the  fellow  when  he  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  common  hangman.  But  the  girl — the  girl, 
of  course,  and  immediately!  What  else  would  have  kept 
us  so  late  from  the  claret  but  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  this 
most  renowned  paragon  ?" 

With  a  second  salute,  in  which  there  was  no  small  de- 
gree of  scorn,  Austin  Tredennis  threw  open  the  door  of 
Joyce  Faa's  cell. 


XXXII 

A    DERELICTION    OF    DUTY 

AFTEE  the  conversation  conducted  through  the  wooden 
.^  partition  with  Marion  of  the  Isle,  Joyce  Faa  had 
thrown  herself  listlessly  down  on  the  rough  wooden  settle 
or  bench,  which  in  its  primal  capacity  had  served  for  a 
second  row  of  the  small  ankers  of  smuggled  municipal 
brandy.  Her  hands  were  clasped  behind  her  head,  and 
though  her  eyes  remained  open,  the  darkness  which  sur- 
rounded her  was  absolute.  It  was  thus  that  they  found 
her. 

She  had  heard  the  noisy  entrance  of  the  cavalcade  into 
the  little  square  in  front  of  Maclellan's  Wark,  but  her 
heart  neither  bounded  with  hope  nor  was  pinched  by  fear. 
The  bells  struck  the  hour  of  midnight,  and  the  sound 
entered  in  alike  from  the  ancient  steeple  and  from  the 
comfortable  eight-day  clocks  of  sleeping  burgher  folk,  but 
Joyce  Faa  never  hearkened.  She  was  aware  of  the  clank- 
ing spurs  and  clashing  swords  that  approached  her  door, 
but  she  gave  no  heed.  Motionless  she  waited  fate.  Not 
till  the  door  was  flung  wide  open  by  the  hand  of  Austin 
Tredennis,  and  a  flood  of  light  illuminated  her  cell  and 
showed  the  girl  a  crowd  of  curious  heads  looking  in  upon 
her,  did  the  outlaw's  daughter  spring  up. 

There  was  something  of  the  wild  animal  in  the  vigorous 
and  instantaneous  grace  of  the  action,  as  well  as  in  the 
disdain  with  whicli  she  eyed  the  general  and  his  company 
when,  cloaked  and  belted,  they  stood  gazing  over  their 

234 


A    DERELICTION    OF    DUTY 

lanterns  at  her,  as  though  she  had  been  shut  up  for  their 
inspection  in  a  cage. 

"  Well,  my  girl,"  said  the  descendant  of  royalty  at  last, 
his  red  face  and  loose  under  jowl  shaking  like  turkey 
wattles,  "  what  is  this — what  is  this  ?  Accused  of  murder 
in  the  first  degree !  Never  heard  of  such  a  thing !  A  girl 
of  your  appearance,  too,  by  gad !  might  have  found  some- 
thing better  to  do.  By  my  royal  father,  yes !  So  she 
might.  Speak,  girl !  Why  don't  you  speak,  and  tell  me 
what  you  have  to  say  for  yourself?" 

The  highly  descended  Fitzgeorge  had  certainly  caught 
the  Hanoverian  manner  of  speech,  and  was  possessed  of 
about  the  average  quantity  of  Georgian  brains. 

"  I  must  first  know  to  whom  I  have  the  honor  of  speak- 
ing, and  why  I,  a  woman  and  a  prisoner,  cannot  be  left 
alone  at  night,"  said  Joyce,  in  the  full  soft  tones  that 
consorted  so  ill  with  what  her  visitors  expected  to  hear 
from  a  wild  gypsy  of  the  hills. 

"  Girl,  restrain  your  insolence !  Do  you  not  know  that 
this  is  General  Fitzgeorge,  commanding  his  ]\Iajesty's 
forces  in  Scotland,  and  that  I  am  the  Earl  of  Kirkham?" 
broke  in  that  dignitary.  "  Captain  Tredennis,  pray  be 
good  enough  to  conduct  my  daughter,  the  Lady  Sylvia 
Kirkham,  to  my  towm  house,  which  you  will  find  open  and 
prepared.    This  is  no  place  for  her !" 

He  was,  indeed,  in  mortal  terror  of  what  the  general 
might  say  next,  for  upon  that  semi-royal  tongue  a  spade 
was  wont  to  be  called  a  spade.  But  to  her  father's  scruples 
the  Lady  Sylvia  vigorously  demurred. 

"  I  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  papa !"  she  said,  with 
determination.  "  I  have  got  eyes  and  ears  as  well  as  you, 
and  mean  to  use  them  for  the  same  piirpose !  Make  your 
reckoning  with  that,  papa !" 

Joyce  Faa  stood  against  a  background  of  the  rough  stone 
of  Maclellan's  Wark,  a  narrow  barred  window  above  her 
head.     Her  dark  eyes  were  large  and  haughty  as  those  of 

23.5 


THE    DAEK     0'    THE     MOON 

any  princess.  Her  bosom  heaved  perceptibly  beneath  the 
crossed  shawl  which  covered  it,  and  her  pretty  head  was 
poised  upon  her  fnll  white  neck  like  a  lily  upon  its  stem. 
The  general  commanding  his  ]\Iajesty's  forces  in  Scotland 
devoured  her  with  little,  twinkling  eyes. 

"  Go  on/'  he  said.  "  I  have  the  power  to  order  your 
release.    Speak  freely.    Do  not  be  afraid." 

"  I  am  brought  here  for  having  taken  part  in  the  death 
of  two  men  whom  I  never  saw  and  whose  names  I  never 
heard,  upon  the  mere  word  of  a  common  informer !  That 
is  all  I  know  of  the  matter !" 

There  was  nothing  of  fear  in  Joyce's  voice;  only  the 
calm,  clear  enunciation  of  a  woman  wronged  who  asks  for 
justice. 

"  These  are  perilous  times,  my  pretty  one,"  said  the 
gallant  general,  "  and  3'ou  must  not  be  too  hard  on  our 
worthy  officer,  Captain  Tredennis.  His  methods  may  be 
a  trifle  rough,  but  he  means  well.  Moreover,  they  tell  me 
that  you  are  the  only  daughter  of  Hector  Faa,  an  outlaw 
who  has  maintained  himself  among  the  wild  hills  for  a 
number  of  years  and  committed  great  depredations.  What 
have  you  to  say  to  that  ?" 

'"  I  am  the  daughter  of  Hector  Faa,  indeed,"  said  Joyce, 
more  defiantly  than  before,  "  but  I  have  yet  to  learn  that 
there  is  anything  criminal  in  that !" 

"  Oh,  it  has  been  held — it  has  been  acted  upon  more 
than  once — the  sins  of  the  fathers,  you  know,"  said  the 
general,  "  but  on  this  occasion  we  are  not  inclined  to  be 
too  severe.  Captain  Tredennis,  see  that  this — this  young 
lady  has  every  comfort  before  you  leave  her.  Then  report 
to  me  at  my  lodgings,  and,  that  you  may  not  feel  oppressed 
with  constant  watchfulness,  Ensign  Gunter  will  assist  you 
in  your  responsibility  for  this  prison  and  its  inmates." 

At  this  order  the  countenance  of  Austin  Tredennis  sud- 
denly fell.  He  was,  of  course,  too  good  a  soldier  to  dispute 
an  order  directly,  but  he  did  what  he  had  never  done  be- 

23fi 


A    DERELICTION    OF    DUTY 

fore  in  all  his  years  of  service — he  ventured  a  remon- 
strance. 

"  But,  general,"  he  said,  almost  stammering  in  his  eager- 
ness, "  these  are  my  prisoners,  taken  under  my  special 
commission  in  the  matter  of  the  Levellers,  and  I  cannot 
share  any  responsibility  for  them  with  Ensign  Gunter  or 
any  other  till  I  have  handed  them  over  to  the  civil  arm !" 

"  Nonsense,  nonsense !"  cried  the  general,  airily,  but 
not  displeased.  "•  I  understand  your  unwillingness,  Tre- 
dennis.  It  does  credit  to  your  manhood.  Never  yet  was  a 
good  soldier  who  was  not  fond  of  a  pretty  girl.  But  I  am 
new  to  this  troublesome  Galloway.  I  need  your  advice 
myself,  and  you  must  be  free  to  give  it.  Deuce  take  it, 
man,  you  have  more  head-piece  than  a  score  of  these  canter- 
ing young  asses  of  my  staff !" 

Captain  Tredennis  saluted,  and  said  nothing  more  aloud. 

"  It  has  taken  your  Highness  a  long  time  to  come  to 
that  conclusion,"  he  muttered  below  his  breath,  as  he  fell 
back  into  the  gloom  of  the  great  hall  of  Maclellan's  Wark. 
He  felt  that  for  the  present  there  was  no  more  to  be  done. 
"  But,  for  all  that,"  he  added,  fiercely,  still  to  himself, 
"  may  I  roast  in  hottest  pit  fire  if  I  leave  these  two  girls  to 
the  cubbish  impertinences  of  Theo  Gunter  and  the  senile 
insolences  of  General  George  Fitzgeorge !  I  would  not 
stand  by  and  permit  it — no,  not  if  it  were  his  royal  father 
liimself  come  l^ack  from  Gehenna  !" 

As  he  stood  looking  out  under  his  brows  at  the  general 
and  his  friends,  he  reiterated  his  determination. 

"  Hanged  if  I  do — no,  not  though  I  be  broke  for  it !" 
muttered  Captain  Tredennis,  and  it  was  with  a  great  sense 
of  relief  that  he  escorted  the  distinguished  party  to  the 
door  of  Maclellan's  Wark,  from  which  a  slippery  plank  or 
two  afforded  uncertain  access  to  a  dirt-encumbered  road- 
way, the  despair  of  successive  generations  of  provosts. 

"  Finish  quickly  and  report  to  me,"  said  the  general. 
"  You  will  find  me  at  my  lord's  town  house.    I  will  send 

337 


THE    DAKK    0'    THE     MOON 

over  young  Gunter  to  take  your  prisoners  off  your  hand 
for  the  night." 

Once  more  Captain  Tredennis  saluted,  and  was  left 
standing  in  the  door-way  with  the  dark  of  the  hall  behind 
him  and  the  sky  glittering  with  stars  above  him. 

He  hastened  back  at  once  to  the  little  cell  in  which 
Marion  had  been  locked,  all  the  while  listening  to  the 
colloquy  in  the  next  chamber.  He  found  her  still  wrapped 
in  his  own  great  cloak,  and  restlessly  pacing  the  narrow 
bounds  within  which  she  was  confined,  evidently  deep  in 
thought. 

"  You  must  get  away  at  once,"  he  said.  "  My  authority 
here  will  be  over  in  half  an  hour — for  to-night,  at  least. 
Be  ready  to  follow  me  the  instant  I  can  have  a  beast 
saddled  for  you." 

]\Iarion  stayed  him,  laying  her  hand  on  his  shoulder 
with  a  curious  new  equality  that,  even  at  that  moment, 
affected  him  strangely. 

"  One  thing  only  I  ask  you  to  do  for  me,  and  I  will  obey," 
she  said,  stopping  in  her  walk  and  facing  him.  "  Let  me, 
for  the  few  minutes  that  remain,  speak  with  one  of  the 
other  prisoners — with  Joyce  Faa." 

"  And  why  ?"  returned  Austin  Tredennis,  chafing 
visibly. 

^Marion  for  the  first  time  permitted  herself  to  smile  one 
of  her  strange,  winning  smiles  up  at  him. 

"  I  am  trusting  you  a  good  deal,"  she  said,  "  trust  me 
also  thus  far.    I  have  a  reason." 

And  she  had,  but  it  was  far  from  being  a  reason  which 
would  have  commended  itself  to'  Captain  Austin  Tre- 
dennis. 

]\Iarion  followed  up  her  advantage  the  moment  she  saw 
that  she  had  obtained  it. 

"  Ah,  then,  you  will  ?"  she  whispered,  laying  her  hand 
on  the  cuff  of  his  military  coat.  "  I  shall  not  forget  your 
kindness." 

238 


A    DERELICTION    OF    DUTY 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  it  must  be  so.  But,  remem- 
ber, every  moment  is  precious,  and  you  must  be  ready  by 
the  time  I  return  with  the  horse." 

"  You  shall  not  have  to  wait,"  said  Marion  of  the  Isle, 
again  smiling  her  subtle  smile.  So,  with  her  hand  still 
on  the  cufF  of  his  coat,  he  handed  her  courteously  out,  and 
in  the  darkness  of  the  passage  she  waited  till  he  had  opened 
the  door  of  the  chamber  wherein  was  Joyce  Faa. 

"  I  can  leave  you  no  more  than  this  single  rushlight," 
he  said,  laying  down  a  little  iron  lantern,  as  Joyce  rose 
in  some  confusion  to  receive  her  new  visitor,  "  but  that 
will  be  sufficient  for  what  you  have  to  say.  Do  not  let  the 
light  shine  beneath  the  door  nor  yet  through  the  bars. 
And,  above  all,  be  ready  when  I  come  for  you." 

He  touched  his  helmet  in  salute,  exactly  as  he  had  done 
to  his  superior  officer,  clicked  the  key  in  the  lock,  and  they 
could  hear  the  jingle  of  his  spurs  growing  fainter  and 
fainter  across  the  hall.  Then  came  the  dull,  sombre  sound 
which  announced  the  closing  of  the  outer  door,  and  for  the 
first  time  the  two  women  about  whom  this  history  turns 
were  alone  together.  Yet  of  their  conversation  this  chroni- 
cler has  nothing  to  report.  The  details  have  not  been  con- 
fided to  him. 

Half  an  hour  later  Austin  Tredennis  returned,  moving 
more  swiftly  and  noiselessly  than  any  one  would  have  given 
him  credit  for.  He  opened  the  cell  door.  All  was  dark 
and  silent  within,  but  the  voice  of  Marion  of  the  Isle  re- 
assured him. 

"  The  lantern  has  gone  out,"  she  said. 

"  No  matter,"  he  whispered.    "  Follow  me  !" 

There  was  the  low  sound  of  a  kiss — a  sob,  and  then 
"  Good-bye,  Joyce !  Be  of  good  heart !"  The  words  were 
spoken  clearly  and  calmly. 

And  as  he  stood  in  the  door-way  a  tall,  slender  figure 
wrapped  in  his  own  militarv  cloak,  went  noiselessly  past 

239 


THE     DAEK     0'     THE     MOON 

Captain  Tredennis.  He  did  not  wait  to  reillumine  the 
lantern,  but,  noting  simply  by  the  pale  light  that  the  out- 
law's daughter  had  resumed  her  former  position  upon  the 
truckle  bed,  he  locked  the  cell  door,  and  followed  the  slim 
figure  in  the  cavalry  cloak  out  into  the  open  air. 

Austin  Tredennis  and  his  charge  waited  till  the  sentry 
had  disappeared  round  the  corner  of  the  ancient  unfinished 
eavstle.  Then  he  took  the  girl  by  the  hand,  hurried  her 
across  the  wide,  vague  space,  still  littered  with  blocks  of 
building  stone,  and  plunged  into  a  little  alley,  from  the 
further  end  of  which  they  emerged  to  find  a  horse  tied  to 
a  tree  in  the  shadow  of  a  little  wood  of  fir-trees. 

All  this  while  no  word  was  spoken.  The  officer  assisted- 
his  companion  into  the  saddle  and  put  the  reins  into  her 
hands.  Only  after  he  did  so  he  drew  one  of  them  a  little 
aside  and  kissed  the  slender  fingers. 

And  this  was  the  sole  reward  which  Austin  Tredennis 
claimed  from  the  girl  for  whose  sake  he  had  endangered  his 
commission  and  disgraced  the  King's  coat. 


XXXIII 
THE    LEVELLERS    TO    THE    RESCUE 

AND  this  curious  dereliction  of  duty,  or,  more  exactly, 
.  aberration  of  judgment  on  the  part  of  Captain  Aus- 
tin Tredennis,  of  Ligonier's  Horse,  explains  why  on  the 
morning  of  the  following  day  Jasper  Jamie  and  I,  riding 
at  the  head  of  fifty  or  sixty  young  fellows  of  the  country- 
side, all  well  armed  and  sworn  Levellers,  met  and  halted  a 
certain  tall  young  soldier  whose  coat  of  red  showed  at  in- 
tervals through  the  great  blue  military  cloak  he  wore. 

It  was  on  the  brae-face  above  Loch  Fergus  that  we  met 
him,  and  I  had  in  my  heart  a  kind  of  fearful  pride,  for  to 
my  thinking  I  was  engaged  in  the  most  reckless  and  daring 
act  of  ray  life.  How  it  came  upon  me  I  cannot  tell.  For 
both  in  idea  and  execution  the  thing  was  mine,  and  (though 
the  supposition  is,  at  the  tirst  blush,  a  much  more  likely 
one)  Jasper  Jamie  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter. 

I  will,  however,  tell  you  how  it  happened,  and  the  im- 
partial reader  of  this  history  shall  be  left  to  judge,  bearing 
me  witness  that  I  have  not  spared  in  other  parts  to  ani- 
madvert upon  the  womanliness  and  pusillanimity  of  my 
character.  I  may,  therefore,  be  trusted  not  to  give  myself 
mo»e  praise  than  is  my  due  for  my  single  act  of  manhood. 

It  came  to  me  as  soon  as  my  mother  and  Grisel  rode  into 
the  court-yard  of  Orraland  with  the  news  that  Joyce  Faa 
was  fast  held  in  the  prison  of  Kirkcudbright. 

I"  would  raise  the  Levellers,  and  the  imprisonment  of 
Captain  Dick  and  Harry  Polwart  were  the  arguments  I 
16  341 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

would  use  with  that  organization.  So  I  made  my  way  to 
Sammle  Tamson,  over  at  Isle  Rathan,  and  the  reasons  I 
made  use  of,  without  betraying  his  daughter's  incognito, 
were  such  that  the  long  man  promised  to  put  me  in  com- 
munication that  very  afternoon  with  the  chiefs  of  the 
Levellers. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  the  son  of  Patrick  and  May 
Heron  attended  a  meeting  of  rebels,  convoked  in  the  shady 
dell  behind  the  famous  nutwood  on  my  father's  own  prop- 
erty of  Orraland.  The  3'ounger  men,  to  the  number  of 
nearly  six  score,  were  enthusiastic  and  eager  for  action. 
What  to  them  was  a  company  of  horse  scattered  here  and 
there  about  the  closes  and  lanes  of  Kirkcudbright  ? 

So  that  night  we  met  as  before  at  the  cross-roads  of  Ras- 
carrel,  the  spot  of  the  first  great  muster.  And  if  I  did  not 
go  forth  with  my  father's  blessing,  I  am  sure  that  he 
blessed  God  that  I  had  so  much  spunk  in  me  as  to  take  my 
life  in  my  hand  and  ride  out  to  strike  a  blow  for  a  couple 
of  young  lasses,  neither  of  whom  were  any  kin  to  me. 

For  my  father,  though  now  all  for  order  and  the  King's 
laws,  had  had  his  time  of  wildness  like  every  other  good 
fellow,  and  had  not  forgotten  how  much  better  smuggled 
brandy  and  stolen  waters  taste  when  compared  with  the 
ordained  and  dutified  article. 

So,  though  he  might  easily  have  stopped  me,  he  said  no 
word,  but  came  down-stairs  again  in  his  shirt  and  breeches 
after  he  had  gone  to  bed.  He  took  a  new  and  favorite  pair 
of  pistols  from  their  case  and  gave  them  to  me. 

"  I  will  show  you  how  to  load  them.  Maxwell,"  he  said. 
"  They  shoot  to  a  quarter  of  an  inch  at  twenty  paces,  but, 
allow,  they  are  something  kittle  at  the  loading." 

And  with  great  gravity  he  showed  me  the  proper  quan- 
tities of  powder,  and  how  to  insert  the  ball  and  hold  it  in 
place. 

"  This  is  only  in  case  ye  should  need  anything  of  the 
kind,"  he  said.    "  Mind,  Maxwell,  keep  out  of  all  quarrels 

24:2 


THE  LEVELLERS  TO  THE  RESCUE 

and  bickerings.  Live  peaceably  with  all  men,  and,  above 
all,  mind  that  the  pistol  with  the  cross  on  the  stock  does 
with  a  pinch  less  of  powder  than  her  sister,  and  throws  a 
trifle  high  and  to  the  left.    God  bless  ye,  lad  !" 

And  with  that  he  went  up-stairs,  my  dear  and  excellent 
father,  and,  as  my  mother  afterwards  told  me,  would 
neither  let  her  go  to  the  window  nor  in  any  way  betray  her- 
self, but  went  himself,  and  stood  by  the  little  barred  lat- 
tice of  his  dressing-room  and  watched  me  saddle  my  horse 
and  ride  away  with  Jasper  Jamie  without  a  sign  of  emo- 
tion on  his  face.  Then  he  came  to  bed,  and  said  to  my 
mother  as  he  composed  himself  to  sleep,  "  Mary,  I  think 
Maxwell's  trip  to  the  Dungeon  of  Buchan  was  the  best 
day's  learning  he  ever  gat,  and  that  a  month  up  at  Hector 
Faa's  Shiel  is  worth  five  year  of  Edinburgh  College." 

So,  I  may  say,  I  rode  away  from  Orraland,  if  not  exactly 
with  my  father's  blessing  on  my  lawless  act,  at  least  with 
something  very  like  it. 

And  as  the  morning  broke  fresh  and  blithe,  with  a  touch 
of  an  earthy  chill  in  the  faint,  unequal  breeze,  we  passed 
from  the  stern  and  rocky  country  which  stretches  away 
from  Orraland  towards  Ben  Tudor,  and  entered  a  land 
which  speaks  to  me  even  more  completely  of  Galloway,  and 
is,  to  my  mind,  like  none  other  in  the  world.  Green  holms, 
far-stretching  and  smooth  of  turf,  break  here  and  there  into 
broomy  knolls  round  which  the  plough  has  moved  for  un- 
numbered generations.  In  the  midst  of  these  islets,  on 
a  little,  flowery  eminence,  there  usually  stands  a  white 
thorn-tree,  gnarled  and  solitary — in  the  spring  blond  and 
foamy  with  May-blossom  as  with  a  larger  growth  of 
meadow-sweet,  in  the  autumn  and  early  winter  russet  with 
haw-berries  and  the  haunt  of  chattering  hordes  of  field- 
fares and  redwings. 

To  the  right  and  the  left  the  holms  fall  away  into  dells 
and  dingles,  all  equally  smooth  and  green.     In  these  the 

.243 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

thorn-trees  stand  thicker,  and  are  alternated  with  deli- 
cately tendrilled  birk  and  ancientest  crabbed  sloe,  spread- 
ing its  twisted  arms  abroad,  and,  as  it  were,  feeling  its 
way  along  the  ground  like  a  beggar  blind  and  lame, 
crawling  to  his  stance  of  alms. 

Well,  it  was  even  in  such  a  place  as  this,  and,  as  I  say, 
on  the  brae-face  above  Loch  Fergus,  that  we  gat  sight  of 
a  young  soldier  riding  on  a  good  beast,  and  as  it  were 
directly  forth  to  meet  us. 

As  we  breasted  the  brae  he  turned  his  horse's  head,  and 
would  have  ridden  off  to  avoid  our  company.  But,  as  a 
Leveller  for  the  time  being,  I  had  the  sense  to  know  that 
the  game  we  were  playing  did  not  admit  of  our  leaving  any 
spies  behind  us.  So,  snatching  my  father's  best  pistol,  and 
bidding  Jasper  Jamie  and  the  two  of  the  better  mounted 
of  the  Levellers  to  follow  us,  I  rode  away  after  the  fugi- 
tive. His  beast  was  a  fat,  round-barrelled  rouncy  from 
the  English  border,  and  but  ill-adapted  for  our  Galloway 
gullies  and  mossy  quags. 

"  Stand  !"  I  cried,  as  we  gained  on  him.  "  Stand,  or  we 
will  shoot  you !" 

It  was  curious  how,  when  the  thing  came  of  its  own 
accord  (as  it  were),  I  took  the  lead  even  of  Jasper  Jamie, 
who  was  a  fighter  by  nature.  But  so,  for  the  time  being 
at  least,  it  was.  Well,  the  soldier  in  blue  and  scarlet  con- 
tinued to  flee,  and  I  should  most  certainly  have  fired  upon 
him,  and  done  what  I  know  not  of  mischief,  if  it  had  not 
])een  that  his  heavy  mare,  unaccustomed  to  the  soft 
ground,  laired  in  a  green  moss  bog  and  stood  still,  with 
both  forelegs  strained  stiffly,  in  spite  of  all  that  the  rider 
could  do  with  whip  and  spur  to  get  her  out. 

As  yet  we  could  sec  nothing  of  the  appearance  of  the 
soldier.  For,  as  I  mentioned,  he  was  all  enwrapped  in  a 
great  mantle  of  blue,  which,  in  the  chill  blowing  of  the 
wind,  sometimes  flapped  back  at  the  corner  and  revealed 
a  tight-fitting  suit  of  military  scarlet  beneath. 

244 


THE  LEVELLERS  TO  THE  RESCUE 

Seeing  that  1  could  not  safely  approach  him  over  the 
soft  ground,  I  leaped  from  my  beast,  and,  running  at  him, 
with  one  hand  I  held  the  pistol  at  his  head,  and  with  the 
other  snatched  back  the  great  capote  or  hood  by  which  his 
features  were  hidden. 

It  was  the  face  of  Joyce  Faa  that  was  revealed — now 
pale  as  drifted  snow,  now  dyed  with  quick-fading  crimson. 

"  Great  God,  Joyce !"  I  cried,  letting  the  pistol  drop 
from  my  hand  in  sheer  astonishment,  "  why  are  you  here  ?" 

At  that  moment  Jasper  Jamie  came  up,  and  what  with 
the  wind  and  the  convulsive  movements  of  the  mare  trying 
to  extricate  herself,  the  cloak  blew  back,  so  that  the 
slender  figure  on  horseback  was  revealed  from  stock  to 
stirrup,  and  Joyce's  long,  black  hair  fell  over  her  shoul- 
ders. 

"  Heavens  !"  cried  Jasper  Jamie,  "  what  can  have  gotten 
into  the  wenches?  Maxwell,  here  is  another  of  them 
trigged  out  in  your  old  Fencible  breeches  !" 

But  Joyce  said  not  a  word  of  good  or  bad.  She  scarcely 
seemed  to  hear.  Her  simple  nature,  accustomed  to  dis- 
guises, and  touched  with  the  wildness  of  the  hills,  found 
no  shame  (or  at  least  showed  none)  in  a  situation  which 
would  have  driven  Marion  or  Grisel  distracted. 

Instead,  let  me  take  her  hand,  and  lightly  dismounted  on 
one  of  the  stray  tussocks  of  bent  grass  which  studded  the 
treacherous  morass.  In  a  moment  more  the  cloak  was 
round  her  again,  and  securely  fastened  with  an  inner  strap 
about  the  waist.  She  even  assisted  us  to  relieve  the  mare 
from  its  dangerous  position,  and  I  sent  l)ack  two  of  the 
young  Levellers  to  the  squadron  to  inform  them  that  it 
was  one  of  Hector  Faa's  company  escaped  in  disguise  from 
the  prison,  and  on  his  way  to  safe  hiding. 

Then  I  turned  again  to  Joyce. 

"  You  must  go  to  my  father  and  mother,  at  Orraland,"  I 
said ;  "  they  will  right  gladly  welcome  you.  In  the  future 
vou  may  choose  for  yourself,  but  in  the  mean  time  you 

245 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

need,  before  everything  else,  a  place  of  immediate  safety 
and  repose." 

But  Joyce  only  shook  her  head  firmly  and  sadly. 

"  I  cannot  go  to  the  house  of  your  mother,"  she  said. 
"  Do  not  forget  that  it  was  but  the  other  day  that  she 
saw  me  stand  up  to  be  married  to  another  man." 

"  But  I  have  told  her  that  you  sacrificed  yourself  to  save 
me,  Joyce,"  I  said.  "  But,  thank  God,  you  are  not  yet  mar- 
ried to  Plarry  Pol  wart !" 

"  It  was  I  who  stopped  that !"  muttered  Jasper  Jamie, 
under  his  breath. 

Joyce  again  shook  her  head,  but  this  time  with  the 
faintest  of  smiles  upon  her  lips. 

"  That  which  has  happened  changes  nothing,"  she  said. 
"  I  have  passed  my  word  to  Harry  Polwart.  For  so  much 
I  promised  to  give  so  much.  He  has  performed  his  part. 
Shall  Hector  Faa's  daughter  fail  to  keep  her  bargain  be- 
cause a  man  is  blind  and  helpless  ?  Xo,  not  while  life  lasts 
to  her.  But,  all  the  same,  I  thank  you,  Maxwell  Heron. 
You  mean  the  best  and  kindest.  It  was  in  order  that  I 
might  find  means  to  break  his  prison  that  I  took  the  chance 
deliverance  which  fortune  put  in  my  way." 

"  Joyce,"  said  I,  "  listen  to  me.  Here  we  are,  a  hundred 
of  us,  riding  to  Kirkcudbright  to  break  down  the  walls  of 
the  Castle.  If  we  fail,  what  can  you  hope  to  do  ?  Attired 
as  you  are,  you  would  only  be  a  hindrance  and  a  danger 
to  us.  Your  disguise  is  known,  and  will  doubtless  be  ad- 
vertised on  every  kirk  door  throughout  broad  Scotland.  If 
you  will  not  go  to  Orraland  to  my  mother — which  I  still 
think  to  be  the  best  plan — you  must  accompany  Davie 
Veitch  to  Marion's  mother,  at  Isle  Eathan,  She  will  hold 
you  safe,  provide  you  with  suitable  clothing,  and  thank 
you  for  news  of  Marion." 

From  motives  which  I  could  not  fathom  at  the  time, 
Joyce  did  not  look  at  me  as  she  replied : 

"  Who  is  this  Davie  Veitch?    Let  me  see  him." 
246 


THE  LEVELLERS  TO  THE  RESCUE 

So  I  called  Davie  forward,  and  at  the  sight  of  his  broad, 
honest,  porridge-and-milk  visage,  Joyce  was  immediately 
reassured. 

"  I  will  go  with  him  to  the  Isle,"  she  said.  "  I  have, 
indeed,  a  message  to  deliver  to  one  dwelling  there." 

I  guessed  that  her  message  was  for  Sammle  Tamson,  but, 
with  an  impulse  of  selfishness  that  I  afterwards  regretted, 
I  did  not  tell  her  that  Sammle  was  in  the  cavalcade  of 
Levellers  which  waited,  impatiently  enough,  their  figures 
silhouetted  against  the  dawn,  upon  the  summit  of  the 
brae.  But,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  afraid  that  if  Joyce 
were  able  to  deliver  her  message  she  might  insist  upon  re- 
turning with  us  to  the  rescue  of  Harry  Polwart — an  enter- 
prise to  which,  even  as  it  was,  I  looked  forward  with  no 
very  sanguine  anticipations. 

So,  in  a  few  minutes  more,  the  figures  of  Joyce  and  her 
chosen  companion  were  lost  behind  the  red  berries  of  the 
solitary  hawthorns,  and  I  was  riding  with  my  company  of 
Levellers  towards  the  prison  of  Kirkcudbright. 


XXXIV 

AUSTIN    TREDENNIS,    MUTINEER 

I  THINK  the  men  were  all  inclined  to  be  a  little  sulky 
about  the  delay  and  the  loss  of  Davie  Veitch,  who, 
though  in  years  little  more  than  a  callant,  was  yet  exceed- 
ingly lively  and  mirthful  of  his  mood,  and  inclined  to  be  a 
good  soldier  by  nature,  keeping  all  about  him  in  humor  on 
the  march  with  his  whistling  and  snatches  of  song.  But  I 
told  them  of  the  necessity  for  putting  so  famous  a  person  as 
Hector  Faa's  daughter  into  a  place  of  safety  (for  after  she 
was  gone  I  saw  no  great  harm  in  revealing  her  identity), 
and  enlarged  upon  the  news  that  Joyce  had  brought  from 
Kirkcudbright — to  wit,  that  Dick  of  the  Isle  and  Harry 
Polwart  were  lying,  not  in  the  common  prison  or  Thieves' 
Hole,  but  in  the  much  more  easily  broken  stronghold  of 
Maclellan's  Wark. 

In  a  way  and  for  the  nonce  the  Levellers  had  accepted 
me  as  their  leader,  chiefly,  T  think,  because  it  was  I  who 
had  summoned  them,  but,  for  all  that,  they  did  not  permit 
me  to  be  present  at  any  of  their  private  colloquies.  So, 
when  they  desired  to  speak  apart  among  themselves,  Robin 
Galtway,  a  fine  old  cottier  from  the  wilder  uplands  of 
Rerrick,  would  touch  his  brow  with  something  of  a  sea- 
faring reverence  that  proved  him  one  who  in  his  time  had 
set  his  Majesty's  revenue  laws  at  defiance  upon  many  a 
smuggling  brig. 

"  Maister  Maxwell,  an'  you,  young  sir,  wha's  name  I 
canna  mind,  ye  will  pardon  us,"  he  would  say,  "  but  there 

248 


AUSTIIs^    TREDENNIS,    MUTINEER 

is  a  word  or  two  that  we  Leveller  lads  wad  speak,  as  it  were, 
atween  oorsel's !" 

And  so  it  happened  now.  The  Levellers  drew  together 
in  a  little  hollow  place  near  a  burn  that  flows  by  the  ruins 
of  an  ancient  castle.  Jasper  Jamie  and  I  were  left  alone 
on  the  drove  road,  which  we  could  see  making  a  green, 
waving  track  from  farm-toM^n  to  farm-town  upward  tow- 
ards Whinnyliggate  and  the  broomy  knowes  of  Hartburn. 

"  Can  they  mean  to  betray  us  ?"  asked  Jasper  Jamie 
of  me,  in  a  low  voice.  For  Jasper,  though  bold  in  action, 
never  had  any  great  head-piece  to  boast  of,  and  was,  more- 
over, generally  cautious  and  rash  in  the  wrong  places. 

"  Betray  us  !  No,  you  gomeril !"  cried  I.  "  They  only 
want  to  talk  over  their  plans  with  some  freedom.  For 
what  is,  after  all,  a  holiday  frolic  to  you  and  me,  being 
our  fathers'  sons,  may  very  easily  turn  out  a  hanging 
matter  to  every  man  of  them.  We  want  Marion,  and  if 
we  do  not  get  her  by  force — why,  we  will  make  her  leave 
off  gallivanting,  put  on  her  proper  petticoats,  and  do  our 
best  to  shame  or  intimidate  the  sheriff  into  setting  her  at 
liberty.  For  this  Harry  Polwart  of  theirs  (to  be  candid) 
Ave  do  not  care  a  doit.  He  may  hang  for  it,  as  far  as  either 
of  us  care.  We  are  not  Levellers  any  more  than  we  are 
Papists,  and  these  fellows  do  well  not  to  trust  their  secrets 
to  us." 

While  we  were  thus  talking  old  Robin  came  back  to  us, 
and  said,  with  another  touch  of  his  forelock.  "  Sirs,  it  will 
not  do  for  any  of  us  lads  to  be  seen  in  Kirkcudbright  or 
in  the  neighborhood  before  dark.  We  are  agreed,  there- 
fore, to  make  for  a  certain  howe  that  we  ken  o',  nigh  to 
the  Buckland  Burn,  and  lie  there  safely  till  nicht,  when, 
if  ye  bring  us  back  news  of  good  intent,  we  will  make  oor 
attempt." 

"  Very  well,  Robin,"  said  I.  "  My  friend  and  I  have  the 
matter  just  as  much  at  heart  as  any  of  you.  We  will  go 
over  to  the  Buckland  Burn  and  lie  hid  with  you." 

349 


^  THE    DAEK    0'    THE     MOON 

Kobin  seemed  a  little  put  out  at  this  and  hesitated, 
shuffling  his  feet. 

"  The  lads  were  thinkin'/'  he  said  at  last,  "  that  maybe, 
gin  your  honors  were  willin',  ye  might  slip  doon  to  the 
toon  and  kind  o'  see  how  things  were  faain'  oot.  There's 
nocht  again  either  o'  you,  and  ye  micht  mak'  up  to  some  o' 
the  sojer  officers  and  hear  what  their  dispositions  were  to 
be  for  the  nicht.    That  wad  help  us  maist  michtily." 

In  itself  it  was  indeed  none  so  ill  thocht  on,  and  though 
at  the  first  blush  it  seemed  rather  a  mean  errand  for  a 
laird's  son  thus  to  become  little  better  than  a  spy,  yet  since 
it  was  for  Marion's  sake  (and  indirectly  for  my  mother's 
and  Grisel's),  I  nodded  a  quick  acquiescence.  Jasper  and 
I  were,  indeed,  too  deeply  in  to  draw  back  now. 

"  Where  shall  I  find  you  on  your  return  ?"  I  asked  Eobin 
Galtway. 

A  quick  flush  passed  over  the  old  man's  face.  He  drew 
nearer  to  us  as  we  sat  on  our  horses  by  the  way-side. 

"  I  was  bidden  not  to  tell  ye,"  he  said,  "  but  to  send 
yin  o'  the  lads  to  meet  ye  oot  yonder  on  the  highway.  Yet 
I  wad  lippen  my  life  on  the  faith  o'  your  faither's  son,  sir. 
Ye  wad  never  sell  them  that  hae  trusted  ye,  into  the  hands 
o'  their  enemies.  Ye  will  find  us  when  ye  like  amang  the 
birks  aneath  the  auld  Castle  o'  Bombie." 

Jasper  Jamie  and  I,  therefore,  went  our  ways  down  to 
the  ancient  burgal  town  of  Kirkcudbright,  where  it  was 
our  hap  at  the  door  of  the  Red  Ijion  to  meet  with  young 
Thoo  Gunter,  lounging  against  the  lintcl-post  of  the  inn, 
and  eying  attentively  all  the  women  who  picked  their  way 
daintily  past  over  the  rounded  cobble-stones  of  the  cause- 
way, strewn  from  side  to  side  with  the  ends  of  carrots  and 
the  refuse  of  ancient  cabbages. 

"  Hola,  young  Rathan !"  he  cried,  for  we  knew  each 
other  of  old  at  the  college  of  Edinburgh,  "  whither  away  ? 
To  see  this  same  fine  young  woman  from  the  wilds?  Well, 
I  do  not  wonder.    Ah  !  by  the  way,  is  she  not  the  same  who 

250 


AUSTIN  TEEDENXIS,  MUTINEEE 

nursed  3'ou  in  your  imprisonment?  By  my  faith,  a  ro- 
mance all  ready-made !  A  fine  chance  this  to  show  your 
gratitude,  Master  Maxwell — only,  alas !  you  come  a  day 
after  the  fair !" 

'^  How  so,  sir  ?"  I  asked  him,  indignantly.  For  Theo 
Gunter  was  a  fellow  whom  I  had  despised  ever  since  the 
time  I  could  truss  my  own  breeches.  He  never  could  speak 
honestly  concerning  any  woman — no,  not  about  his  own 
sister — but  always  with  a  jest  and  a  fleer  and  a  sidelong 
look  that  I  hated  worse  than  the  devil. 

"  How  so  ?"  he  laughed.  "  Because  you  must  wait  till 
your  betters  are  served,  my  fine  lad — escaped  prisoner, 
grateful  for  your  deliverance  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  though 
you  be !  You  are  a  laird's  son,  it  is  true,  like  myself.  'Tis 
well  enough  in  its  way !  But  hark  to  this :  There  is  a 
king's  son  before  you  !    What  think  you  of  that  ?" 

"  A  king's  son !"  quoth  I,  amazed,  and  thinking  of  Joyce 
on  her  way  to  the  safety  of  Isle  Rathan  with  honest  Davie 
Veitch  for  a  companion.  "  What  mean  you  by  talking  of 
a  king's  son  in  connection  with  Joyce  Faa  ?" 

"  I  mean  the  thing  I  say !"  cried  young  Gunter,  clap- 
ping his  hands  upon  his  thighs  at  my  discomfiture.  "  He 
is  with  her  now — General  George  Fitzgeorge,  no  less,  com- 
manding his  Majesty's  forces  in  Scotland.  If  he  is  not  a 
king's  son,  his  mother  is  more  than  usually  belied." 

I  turned  me  about  and  looked  at  Jasper,  and  Jasper 
looked  at  me.  His  mouth  formed  the  word  "  Marion  "  so 
clearly  that  I  could  almost  hear  him  speak  it.  But  when 
Gunter  glanced  at  him  he  pretended  to  whistle,  which  was 
Jasper's  idea  of  unconscious,  tactful  innocence. 

Throwing  the  reins  of  our  beasts  to  the  hostler  of  the 
Eed  Lion,  and  hastily  promising  to  return  and  dine  with 
Ensign  Gunter  at  three  o'clock  (a  promise  which  was  never 
kept),  Jasper  and  I  set  out  in  the  direction  of  Maclellan's 
Wark.  I  had  no  idea  how  I  was  to  obtain  permission  to 
enter,  for  it  was  now  nine  of  the  clock.     Joyce's  escape 

251 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

must  have  been  found  out  long  before  that  time,  and  the 
hue  and  cry  raised,  though  idle  Theo  Gunter  had  not  yet 
got  word  of  the  matter.  But  that  did  not  in  the  least 
surprise  me.  For  all  the  days  of  him  he  cared  for  naught 
save  to  be  thought  a  devil  of  a  fellow,  and  to  stand  in  a 
door-way  ogling  the  women  as  they  passed  by  upon  their 
occasions. 

But  as  luck  would  have  it,  at  the  door  of  Maclellan's 
Wark.  in  colloquy  with  Saunders  Lennox,  the  burgh  officer 
of  Kirkcudbright,  we  saw  a  tall  man  in  well-worn  regi- 
mentals, whom  Jasper  Jamie  informed  me  was  Captain 
Austin  Tredennis,  of  Ligoniers  Horse. 

"  Introduce  me,"  I  bade  him,  in  a  whisper,  and  Jasper, 
who  (when  he  understood)  always  implicitly  obeyed  me, 
instantly  did  so. 

The  captain  bowed  calmly,  yet  with  an  air  of  distinct 
hauteur  that  1  thought  strange  at  first. 

"  Mr.  Maxwell  Heron,  I  am  honored  to  make  your  ac- 
quaintance," he  said.  "  I  had,  I  think,  the  advantage  of 
meeting  two  ladies  of  your  family  when — when  we  took 
these  prisoners  at  the  Manse  of  Mannigaff." 

"  It  is  on  business  which  intimately  concerns  one  of  these 
that  we  are  here  to-day,"  I  said,  and  then  hesitated  how  I 
should  continue,  for,  indeed,  the  matter  was  a  difficult  one 
to  open  out  diplomatically. 

"  Ah !"  said  Captain  Tredennis,  Iryly,  measuring  me 
with  his  eye,  as  if  wondering  how  much  better  I  would 
look  ten  paces  away  over  the  trigger  of  a  pistol. 

I  hastened  to  add  (for  I  could  see  from  the  dryness  of 
our  reception  that  his  mood  was  no  ways  favorable  to  our 
cause)  how  that  I  had  nothing  to  say  in  favor  of  the 
gypsy  Harry  Polwart,  who,  indeed,  on  one  occasion  had 
attempted  to  take  my  life;  but  that,  on  the  other  hand,  I 
was  much  interested — 

"  In  bis  companion,  the  daughter  of  the  outlaw  Hector 
Faa,"  interrupted  the  officer,  liarshly.     "  I  think  I  heard 

252 


AUSTIN  TEEDENNIS,  MUTINEER 

as  much.  But  I  warn  you  that  I  can  do  nothing  on  her 
behalf.  The  commander-in-chief  of  the  forces  in  Scot- 
land has  taken  the  case  into  his  own  hands." 

There  was  a  curious  light  in  Tredennis's  eye  as  he 
spoke,  which  I  understood  afterwards  to  result  from  an 
angry  contempt  for  his  superior,  mingling  with  a  rejoicing 
certainty  of  the  safety  of  the  girl  in  whom  his  own  heart 
was  thus  early  interested. 

"  No,"  I  answered,  not  doubting  that  as  custodian  of 
the  prisoners  he  already  knew  of  Joyce's  escape,  "  it  is 
not  of  Hector  Faa's  daughter  that  I  would  speak,  but  of 
another  maiden,  very  closely  linked  by  affection  and  kind- 
ness with  our  house !" 

Then,  in  a  moment,  the  fighting  spirit  leaped  clear  into 
the  eyes  of  Captain  Austin  Tredennis.  His  face  flushed 
and  paled  again.  He  had  been  leaning  carelessly  against 
the  wall  by  the  great  door  of  the  castle,  but  in  an  instant 
he  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height  and  laid  his  hand 
menacingly  upon  his  sword-hilt. 

"  Of  whom  do  you  speak  ?"  he  said. 

"  Of  Mistress  Marion — called  Marion  of  the  Isle,"  I 
made  answer,  "  who  has  been  to  my  mother  as  a  daughter 
and  to  my  sister  Grisel  as  a  twin  sister." 

"  Also,  mayhap — "  he  sneered  a  little  here,  twisting  his 
mustaches  the  while — "  also  as  something  equally  near  and 
dear  to  Master  Maxwell  Heron,  younger,  of  Rathan,  and 
(so  they  tell  me),  general  lover !" 

But  I  was  too  anxious  to  help  Marion  out  of  her  diffi- 
culty without  bloodshed  to  be  in  any  quarrelsome  vein,  so 
I  only  laughed  at  his  provocation  as  at  a  goodly  jest. 

"  No,"  said  I,  smiling,  and  speaking  the  simple  truth, 
"  Marion  of  the  Isle  is  well,  and  very  well,  but  neither  of 
us  ever  weared  two  thoughts  upon  the  other,  till  first  one 
and  afterwards  the  other  of  us  got  fast  in  a  prison.  Then, 
for  my  mother's  sake,  Marion  rode  out  in  her  company  to 
deliver  me  from  the  Dungeon  of  Buchan,  even  as  now,  for 

253 


THE    DARK     0'    THE    MOON 

my  mother's  sake,  I  in  my  turn  plead  her  interest  with 
you." 

Again  Captain  Tredennis  smiled,  but  in  quite  another 
fashion  than  before. 

"  In  that  case  I  have  what  cannot  prove  other  than  good 
news  to  you  and  your  family,"  he  said.  "  I  have  just  been 
informed  by  the  caretaker  that  the  temporary  cell  occupied 
by  the  young  lady  to  whom  you  refer  has  been  found 
empty.  As  nothing  has  been  heard  of  her,  I  have  little 
doubt  that  she  is  by  this  time  in  a  place  of  safety." 

"  Good  heavens !"  cried  Jasper  Jamie,  in  high  excite- 
ment.   "  Then  they  have  both  of  them  escaped  ?" 

"  Both  ?"  queried  the  captain,  a  little  hoarsely.  "  What 
do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Why,"  said  Jasper  Jamie,  before  I  could  warn  or  stop 
him,  "  this  morning  we  met  Joyce  Faa  on  a  dun  mare 
riding  as  hard  westward  as  she  could  go !" 

"  You  met  Joyce  Faa  ?"  There  was  a  sudden  wonder 
and  anxiety  in  the  eyes  of  Austin  Tredennis. 

He  turned  to  the  door  of  Maclellan's  Wark  and  clanged 
hastily  upon  it  with  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

"  Open  there  !"  he  cried. 

A  voice  issued  from  the  wide  keyhole,  at  about  the  level 
of  his  knee,  with  a  curious  whistling  sound. 

"  It's  the  general's  orders  that  nane  are  allowed  to  en- 
ter here  save  and  except  himsel'  and  them  that  hae  his 
pass !" 

"I  will  stand  between  you  and  the  general.  I  take  the 
consequences  upon  myself,"  said  the  captain  of  horse. 
"  Open  the  door  this  instant,  Saunders  Lennox !  You 
know  the  prisoners  were,  first  of  all  mine — brought  hither 
by  me !" 

"  Weel,  they  canna  hang  me  for  't,"  grumbled  the  voice, 
as  a  faint  fumbling  of  rusty  iron  made  itself  heard  within, 
"  for  I  am  the  hangman's  sel',  and — faith  I  wad  juist 
refuse  to  operate !    That's  yae  comfort !" 

25-1 


AUSTIX  TEEDENNIS,  MUTINEER 

It  was  Saunders  Lennox's  one  joke,  but  all  three  of  us 
were  too  anxious  to  honor  it. 

We  passed  him  hastily,  without  a  word,  and,  following 
Austin  Tredennis,  strode  across  the  wide,  empty  hall  to 
the  doors  of  the  little  cells  which  had  been  formerly  occu- 
pied by  the  magisterial  kegs  and  ankers.  The  door  of  one 
stood  open. 

"  That's  whaur  the  young  birkie  escapit  f  rae  yestreen," 
said  Saunders  Eennox,  explanatorily.  "  But  hoo  he  did  it, 
or  whaur  he  has  gane,  I  declare  it  wad  puzzle  the  Auld  Yin 
himsel'  to  tell !" 

There  was  the  nest  of  the  flown  bird  indeed,  plain  to 
be  seen — the  rude  bench,  the  straw  mattress,  and  the  sack 
coverlet.  But  the  question  was,  which  of  the  birds  had 
flown?  Jasper  and  I  knew  the  answer  already,  and  Cap- 
tain Austin  Tredennis  was  very  suddenly  and  surprisingly 
to  obtain  satisfaction,  or  rather,  in  this  case,  dissatisfaction. 

As  we  crossed  the  wide,  dusky  spaces  of  the  hall  the 
sound  of  voices  in  angry  debate  rose  high  and  clear.  The 
words  which  reached  us  first  were  those  of  a  woman. 

"  Come  a  step  nearer,  and,  by  Heaven,  I  will  stab  you  to 
the  heart !"  the  voice  said. 

]\Iore  hoarsely,  a  man's  answered  it :  "  What !  What ! 
Blood  me  !    An  intolerable  vixen  !" 

Tredennis  tried  the  door,  shaking  it  fiercely.  It  was 
locked  inside.  But,  with  a  quick  stoop,  Austin  Tredennis 
made  sure  that  the  key-hole  was  clear. 

"  Here,  Saunders,  quick !"  he  cried.  "  Give  me  your 
master-key  a  moment !" 

"  It  were  as  muckle  as  my  life's  worth,  if  I  did  !"  faltered 
the  burgh  officer. 

"Your  life  is  in  greater  danger  this  moment  if  you  do 
not !"  said  Tredennis,  savagely.  "  G-ive  me  the  key,  or  I 
will  throttle  you  and  take  it,  you  vagabond  !" 

With  some  unwilling  alacrity  Saunders  selected  a  strong 
key  from  a  bunch,  and,  shaking  it  clear  of  the  others,  hand- 

255 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOO]^ 

ed  it  to  the  soldier.  In  another  moment  it  was  in  the  lock 
and  the  wards  turned.  The  door  flew  back  before  his 
strong  arm. 

A  girl  was  standing  at  the  farthest  corner  of  the  little 
cell  with  a  dirk  in  her  hand.  Nearer  us,  his  arm  raised 
before  his  face,  either  in  self-defence  or  in  a  kind  of  half- 
humorous  deprecation,  stood  the  gallant,  if  left-handed, 
scion  of  a  kingly  race — General  George  Fitzgeorge. 

In  another  moment,  after  one  brief  glance  at  the  girl's 
features.  Captain  Tredennis  took  his  superior  officer  by 
the  collar  of  his  gold-laced  coat,  and,  with  a  single  swirl 
of  his  arm,  swung  him  clean  out  of  the  cell,  where  he  ac- 
curately measured  out  the  breadth  of  his  back  in  the  dust 
of  the  hall. 

I  will  acknowledge  that  at  this  act  of  daring  insubordina- 
tion my  heart  stood  aghast.  I  expected  no  less  than  that 
the  captain  of  horse  would  be  instantly  had  out  and  shot 
against  the  wall.  But,  strange  to  relate,  the  high  officer 
gathered  himself  up  out  of  the  dust  with  something  ap- 
proaching to  a  smile  upon  his  face. 

"  You  are  over  -  hasty.  Captain  Tredennis  —  what  ? 
what  ?"  he  said.  "  Did  you  not  see  your  superior  officer 
engaged  in  interrogating  a  prisoner — one,  indeed,  who  is 
under  strong  suspicion  of  aiding  and  abetting  the  escape  of 
her  companion,  a  notorious  rebel,  during  the  night?  You 
are  hasty,  sir — infamously  hasty !  You  should  keep  bet- 
ter eyes  in  your  head.  Captain  Tredennis !  I  have  a  great 
mind  to  put  you  under  arrest,  sir !  Yes,  and  I  would  do 
so  too — were  it  not  that  I  do  not  wish  to  magnify  a  simple 
incident  to  undue  proportions,  or  to  cause  a  scandal  con- 
cerning one  of  the  officers  under  my  command !" 

"  Not  under  your  command,  general,"  answered  the 
other,  with  a  grim  and  smileless  face.  "  I  would  have  you 
remember  that  I  am  Captain  Austin  Tredennis,  of  Ligo- 
nier's  Horse,  detailtMl  for  special  service  in  tbe  province 
from  ray  regiment,  presently   quartered  at  Carlisle.     I 

356 


AUSTIN  TREDENNIS,  MUTINEER 

can,  therefore,  only  take  orders  from  my  lieutenant-colo- 
nel, and  can  only  be  put  under  arrest  by  him !" 

"  Your  captaincy  has  the  enlistment  regulations  and  the 
articles  of  war  by  heart,  I  see.  I  congratulate  you.  It  is 
more  than  ever  I  could  master,"  said  the  general,  mildly. 
By  this  time  he  had  picked  himself  up,  and  was  dusting 
himself  with  no  very  ill  grace — even  with  a  certain  appre- 
ciation of  the  occasion.  "  If  you  have  the  goodness,  in 
conjunction  with  your  two  young  friends,  to  say  nothing 
about  this  little  affair — why,  I  on  my  part  will  be  delight- 
ed to  inform  those  whose  interest  it  is  to  know,  how  admi- 
rable an  officer  his  Majesty  has  the  good  fortune  to  possess 
in  the  person  of  Captain  Tredennis,  of  Ligonier's  Horse." 

"  As  to  that  last,"  said  the  captain,  shortly,  "  you  can, 
of  course,  please  yourself.  In  any  case  you  can  count  on 
us  not  to  speak  of  the  matter.  These  young  gentlemen  are 
friends  of  the  lady's  family,  and  it  is  not  their  wish — " 

"  Heavens !  I  never  once  thought  of  that !"  cried  the 
general.  "  The  lady  is  far  too  charming  to  need  such  a 
thing  as  a  family  tree;  indeed,  I  have  none  to  speak  of 
myself — on  the  female  side,  that  is." 

The  descendant  of  kings  smiled  around  him  with  uni- 
versal benevolence,  and  then,  turning  to  Marion,  who 
stood  with  her  hands  dropped  to  her  side,  he  made  her  a 
profound  bow  before  speaking  again. 

"  I  regret,  my  dear  young  lady,  that  you  should  so  far 
have  misinterpreted  my  most  respectful  offer  of  service  and 
good  ofFices  as  to  suppose  that  I — that  I  could  for  a  mo- 
ment cherish  any  but  the  profoundest  sentiments  of  respect 
and  esteem  for  one  so  blest  by  nature  with  beauty  of  per- 
son, and  so  highly  endowed  with,  I  am  sure,  the  purest  and 
noblest  of  moral  qualities.  Permit  me  to  express  my  sin- 
cere regrets,  and  again,  and  in  the  presence  of  these  gentle- 
men, to  offer  you  the  utmost  service  that  is  within  my 
power." 

■'  By  doing  so,  general,  vou  will  escape  the  mistake  your 
""  "  257 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

Excellency  made  last  time,"  said  Captain  Austin,  a  little 
ironically.  *'  Such  offers  to  friendless  girls  are  best  made 
before  witnesses.  But,  sir,  as  it  happens,  you  are  in  a  posi- 
tion to  give  effect  to  your  wishes,  which  I  have  no  doubt 
are  sincere." 

"  And  in  what  manner,  sir,  can  I  have  that  pleasure  ?" 
said  the  general,  who  had  by  this  time  finished  dusting 
himself  and  settling  his  discomposed  stock  in  its  place. 

"  Simply  by  ordering,  on  your  discretion,  the  temporary 
release  of  this  young  lady.  I  have  the  pleasure  of  inform- 
ing you  that  not  only  I  myself,  who  am  no  more  than  a 
poor  soldier,  but  these  gentlemen,  representatives  of  two 
of  the  best  families  of  the  county,  will  hold  themselves 
responsible  for  her  appearance  at  any  time." 

"■  I  do  not  in  the  least  doubt  it,"  said  the  general, 
smiling.  "  If  the  young  lady  had  been  willing  to  trust 
herself  to  me,  why  so  should  I." 

Captain  Tredennis  bit  his  lip  savagely,  but  with  a  su- 
preme effort  controlled  his  temper. 

"  Your  Excellency  will  grant  her  release  then — con- 
ditionally, of  course,  upon  joint  and  personal  undertaking 
to  produce  her  when  called  upon  ?" 

"  If  the  young  lady  will  deign  to  accept  an  unconditional 
freedom  at  my  hands,  I  should  be  better  pleased !"  said  the 
gallant  general,  who  liked  titles  which  were  only  his  by 
a  considerable  stretch  of  courtesy. 

But  instead  of  making  him  the  least  sign  of  gratitude, 
our  haughty  Marion  turned  her  back  full  upon  her  bene- 
factor and  stared  out  through  the  narrow-barred  window 
of  her  prison. 

The  general  waved  a  hand  towards  her  indulgently. 

"  I  cannot  look  for  anything  else,"  he  said ;  "  I  well 
know  that  ladies'  prejudices  when  once  formed  are  ineradi- 
cable. I  can  only  hope,  madam,  that  some  of  your  three 
sponsors  will  be  more  fortunate  than — ahem !  the  son  of 
a  king !" 

258 


AUSTIN  TREDENNIS,  MUTINEEE 

And  with  these  words  the  old  buck  saluted  grandly,  even 
regally,  and  forthwith  marched  himself  out  of  the  Castle, 
swinging  his  gold-headed  cane,  as  it  were  to  the  beat  of 
drums,  jauntily,  as  if  he  had  been  walking  down  the  Mall 
arm-in-arm  with  his  own  royal  father. 


XXXV 

MARION    DISCHARGES    HER   DEBT 

IN  the  little  cell  in  IMaclellan's  Wark  there  remained 
the  three  of  us — and  Marion  of  the  Isle.  But  here  was 
the  difficulty.  For  though  men,  taken  by  and  large,  do 
l)usiness  easily  enough  together,  yet  the  merest  flutter  of 
a  petticoat  deucedly  complicates  matters.  x\nd,  in  spite 
of  my  disclaimer,  I  could  see  that  the  large  cavalry  captain 
was  in  no  mind  to  permit  us  to  ride  off  in  company  with 
his  prisoner — at  least,  till  she  had  explained  the  mystery  of 
Joyce  Faa  and  her  escape. 

Nor  had  Jasper  and  I  easy  parts  to  play.  For,  first  of 
all,  we  had  given  our  promise  to  the  honest  fellows  pres- 
ently lying  under  arms,  and  ready  for  the  fray  on  Marion's 
account,  under  the  birk  and  broom  bushes  of  Bombie 
glen. 

Then  there  was  our  undertaking  to  the  general,  made 
jointly  with  Austin  Tredennis,  to  keep  the  young  woman 
out  of  mischief  (which,  in  the  long  run,  proved  the  most 
troublesome  of  all).  And  lastly,  there  was  Marion  her- 
self, at  best  a  very  uncertain  quantity,  and  one  well  fitted 
to  bring  the  best-laid  plans  of  three  wise  men  to  naught. 
Neither  father  nor  mother  had  ever  had  the  least  influence 
over  her.  It  remained  to  be  seen  whether  a  committee  of 
three  would  be  able  to  manage  any  better. 

So  it  came  to  pass  lliat  I  was  witness  of  the  interview 
between  Austin  and  ]\Iarion,  much  (as  I  could  judge) 
against  the  will  of  the  former.    Jasper  Jamie,  who  would 

260 


MARION    DISCHARGES    HER    DEBT 

not  in  any  case  have  tasted  the  delicacy  of  the  occasion, 
was  despatched  to  look  after  the  horses  and  have  them  in 
readiness  against  our  departure.  And  1  flattered  myself 
by  thinking  that  my  presence  gave  some  courage  to  Marion 
— or,  as  it  may  be  named,  contrariness.  For  as  I  have 
often  said  (in  the  course  of  this  narrative),  I  am  by  nature 
so  like  a  v^^oman  in  many  of  my  feelings,  that  women  do 
not  commonly  consider  me  in  the  way  upon  occasions  when 
they  would  be  glad  of  the  presence  and  support  of  another 
woman. 

So,  be  it  to  my  credit  or  no,  it  is  a  fact  that  I  believe 
Marion  was  pleased  that  the  first  interview  with  Austin 
Tredennis  after  the  deceit  she  had  played  upon  him,  took 
place  with  me  for  a  witness. 

And  the  reader  who  cares  for  these  things  will,  I  trust, 
find  the  explanation  of  much  of  my  unsatisfactory  be- 
havior in  this  fact,  and  make  some  allowance  for  my 
uncertain  and  fitful  courtship  of  my  sweetheart,  my  waver- 
ing march  towards  the  goal  to  which  most  men  speed 
straight  as  an  arrow  shot,  my  frequent  faintings  by  the 
way,  and  my  very  occasional  accesses  of  courageousness. 
All  these,  as  well  as  the  curious  sympathy  I  have  for  their 
ways  (apart,  that  is,  from  love-making),  prove  to  myself 
that  I  was  born  with  some  part  of  a  woman's  nature  and 
character  awkwardly  enough  contained  within  or  super- 
imposed upon  the  outward  framework  of  a  man. 

But  there  I  am — at  it  again,  as  usual,  explaining  myself 
when  I  ought  in  fairness  to  the  reader  to  be  hard  at  the 
essential  matter  of  my  tale. 

Well,  as  I  say,  Marion  was  pleased  to  see  me.  Captain 
Tredennis,  if  equally  delighted,  certainly  dissembled  his 
pleasure  with  some  considerable  success. 

After  the  general's  departure  Marion  had  not  sat  down, 
though  she  had  managed,  without  attracting  attention,  to 
conceal  Joyce's  dirk  somewhere  about  her  person,  and  now 
she  turned  to  face  us  with  a  smile  on  her  face.    But  Tre- 

261 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

dennis  was  more  than  usually  grave.    His  expression  might 
almost  be  spoken  of  as  glum. 

"  Well,"  he  said  at  last,  finding  that  Marion  did  not 
speak,  "  considering  what  passed  between  us  last  night, 
madam,  I  little  expected  to  find  you  here." 

"  Well,"  said  IMarion,  proudly,  "  and  pray  what  passed 
between  us,  sir  ?" 

Captain  Tredennis  half  turned  about  to  me  with  a  frown 
which  meant,  as  plain  as  printers'  ink,  "  Be  good  enough, 
sir,  to  go  to  the  devil !" 

I  felt  the  difficulty  of  the  position,  and  though  I  had 
a  very  woman's  curiosity  to  know  the  beginning  and  the 
end  of  the  matter,  I  was  preparing  to  remove  myself  on 
the  pretext  of  seeing  where  Jasper  Jamie  had  gone  to, 
when  Marion,  with  a  quick,  imperious  movement  of  her 
hand,  fixed  me  to  the  spot. 

"  Maxwell  Heron  is  my  friend !"  she  said,  with  wonder- 
ful dignity.  "  He  will  permit  me,  though  of  another 
sphere  in  life,  to  call  him  that.  We  have  been  comrades 
and  playfellows  since  childhood.  There  can  be  no  secrets, 
sir,  between  us,  whose  acquaintance  is  but  that  of  a  day, 
which  is  not  fit  for  him  to  hear !" 

Austin  Tredennis  cast  another  annihilating  glance  at  me 
as  Marion  was  speaking,  but  I  only  bowed,  and  said  that  I 
was  wholly  at  her  service.  Thereupon,  Captain  Tredennis 
laid  his  hand  suggestively  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  as  if  he 
would  much  like  to  argue  the  matter  out  with  me  on  the 
green  in  front  of  the  Castle  with  other  weapons  than  the 
tongue. 

"It  is  true  I  have  no  such  long-standing  claims,"  he 
said,  dryly.  "  I  only  risked  my  whole  career — nay,  my  life 
— for  you  last  night  in  order  to  free  you  from  prison  and 
possible  death,  and  doubtless  the  reward  I  have  deserved 
I  now  receive — deceit,  double-dealing,  shame.  You  must 
forgive  me,  mistress,  if  I  speak  roughly.  I  have  no  skill 
of  words  to  please  maidens  of  such  slight  purpose.    But  I 

262 


MARION    DISCHAEGES    HER    DEBT 

speak  out  that  which  is  in  my  heart,  and  I  tell  you  franklj^, 
madam,  my  heart  is  sore  and  disappointed  within  me. 
And  you  are  the  cause." 

"  Indeed !"  said  Marion.  "  And  is  that  all  you  have 
to  say  ?" 

"  It  is,  madam,"  he  answered,  gravely,  "  and,  having 
said  it,  for  my  part  I  desire  no  explanation.  As  you  heard 
just  now,  your  safety  has  been  arranged  for  in  another 
way.  Save  that  upon  this  occasion  I  have  the  advantage 
of  being  associated  with  this  young  gentleman  (your 
ancient  playmate,  I  think  you  said),  I  expect  no  more 
gratitude  now  than  formerly.  But  at  least  I  may  express 
a  hope  that  in  any  engagements  you  may  enter  into  with 
Mr.  Maxwell  Heron  he  will  find  that  you  are  more  inclined 
to  keep  your  plighted  word — as  you  did  not,  madam,  when 
a  certain  poor  fool  put  his  life  and  reputation  in  peril  for 
you  last  night !" 

"You  have  entirely  finished?"  queried  Marion,  calmly. 
And,  by  her  tone,  I  could  have  sworn,  having  oft  played 
with  her  at  piquet,  that  the  young  woman  held  the  better 
cards.  I  looked  to  see  this  rash  captain  of  horse  piqued 
and  repiqued,  rubiconed  and  capoted,  till  he  should  throw 
down  his  hand  in  sheer  despair.    And,  indeed,  so  it  fell  out. 

To  her  inquiry  Austin  Tredennis  only  bowed  an  affirma- 
tive, setting  his  lips  grimly  enough,  however,  beneath  his 
great  mustache. 

"Well,  then,  Captain  Austin  Tredennis,"  said  Marion 
of  the  Isle,  "  in  the  first  place  let  me  recall  to  your  mind 
that  I  made  with  you  nothing  of  the  nature  of  a  compact." 

"  You  asked  me  to  trust  you,"  he  interrupted.  "  I  did 
trust  you !  And — "  Instead  of  finishing  the  sentence 
he  stretched  his  hand  out  towards  Joyce  Faa's  empty  cell. 

"  You  mistake,"  said  Marion,  swiftly  countering.  "  I 
promised  only  to  be  ready  when  you  came.  I  was  ready — 
only  ready  to  remain,  not  to  go.  From  the  first  you  had 
taken  me  for  a  light  thing — a  child  to  be  petted  and 

263 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

dandled,  whose  tears  were  to  be  dried  with  dainties  and 
sweetstuffs.  You  had  overborne  me  with  your  boastful 
manliood,  and  found  pleasure  in  it.  And  I — well,  I  was  re- 
solved to  show  you  that  a  poor,  weak  woman,  one  from 
whom  you  could  at  will  wring  pettish  tears  of  weakness — 
tears  at  which  you  laughed — " 

"  I  deny  that !"  said  Austin  Tredonnis. 

"  Yes,  tears  of  shameful  folly,  at  which  doubtless  you 
were  right  to  laugh — I  do  not  blame  you  at  all,"  repeated 
ATarion,  conserving  the  immemorial  advantage  of  her  sex 
and  utilizing  a  denial  as  an  admission.  "  But  all  the  same, 
I  was  resolved  to  do  a  deed  which  would  be  to  the  full  as 
manful  as  any  swaggering  braggadocio  of  the  camp  or 
point-device  of  etiquette  which  you  gentlemen  learn  who 
follow  the  wars — " 

('•'  She  loves  him,  of  that  I  am  sure!''  I  thought  to  my- 
self at  this  point.)  And  I  looked  at  the  captain  of  horse 
to  see  how  he  was  taking  it.  But  there  was  no  change  in 
his  face  that  I  could  detect,  save  that,  if  anything,  the 
lips  under  the  heavy  mustache  were  a  little  more  grimly 
compressed.    Marion  went  trampling  on. 

"  So,  instead  of  stealing  off  like  a  child  taken  in  a  fault, 
and  in  fear  of  the  rod,  I  bade  a  woman  take  my  place  who 
was  in  some  danger — some  real  danger,  I  mean.  She  had 
a  reason  for  escape.  I  had  none,  or,  at  least,  none  that 
weighed  at  all  with  me,  after  I  had  arranged  a  certain  mat- 
ter with  her.  You  found  me  in  a  dress  in  which  I  had 
appeared  a  score  of  times.  Yet,  of  set  purpose,  sir,  you 
made  me  feel  the  shame  of  it.  Well,  Captain  Trodennis, 
I  exchanged  my  chance  of  liberty  for  this"  (she  gave  a 
proud  little  swing  to  the  skirt  of  my  poor  Joyce's  old  gown, 
which  nevertheless  set  off  her  tall  figure  to  a  marvel). 
"  And  I  think  the  exchange  was  well  worth  making,  in 
that,  though  I  am  still  your  prisoner,  I  can  now  talk  to 
you  on  equal  terms." 

"  You  call  this  talking  on  equal  terms,  do  you  ?"  he  said, 
2CA 


MAEION    DISCHAKGES    HER    DEBT 

with  more  subtlety  of  ironic  vein  than  I  had  given  him 
credit  for. 

"  I  do,"  said  Marion,  not  to  be  diverted  from  her  pur- 
pose even  for  a  moment.  ''  You  found  out  my  secret  last 
night,  and  you  had  no  pity  on  me.  You  flung  your  coat 
at  me  as  you  would  have  flung  a  crust  to  a  starving  dog ! 
You  looked  at  me  with  a  look  of  contempt !  Heavens !" 
cried  Marion,  suddenly  breaking  off,  "  I  would  rather  hang 
by  the  neck  till  I  was  dead  than  see  another  such  look  on 
your  face — on  any  man's  face — " 

"  You  prefer  that  which  was  on  that  of  his  Excellency 
the  general  just  now,  perhaps?"  said  Austin  Tredennis, 
softly. 

"His  Excellency!"  Marion's  scorn  grew  to  something 
like  fury.  "  I  beg  you  to  remember  that  I  was  speaking 
of  men !  I  know  very  well  how  to  protect  myself  against 
brute  beasts !  It  was  you,  sir,  not  your  superior  officer, 
who  took  advantage  of  my  position — played  upon  my  help- 
lessness as  a  prisoner,  my  weakness  as  a  woman ! 

"  You  bade  me  go,  with  your  man's  scorn  for  my  sex's 
frailty.  I  remained,  to  prove  to  you  that  your  compassion 
was  as  misplaced  as  your  scorn  !" 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Austin  Tredennis,  simply,  after 
waiting  a  moment  as  if  to  make  sure  that  she  had  finished. 
"  I  will  now  leave  you  with  your  comrade  and  playmate 
till  I  complete  the  necessary  arrangements  for  your  libera- 
tion. I  promise  you  that  these  will  not  detain  you  long. 
This  is  only  a  temporary  prison,  and  the  general's  signa- 
ture to  an  order  of  release  will  be  sufficient  for  all  pur- 
poses." 

He  saluted,  and  turned  to  go.  As  he  went  out  into  the 
outer  hall  Marion  made  a  single  step  as  if  to  follow  him. 

"  You  have  nothing  to  answer  ?"  she  said,  checking  her- 
self quickly,  and  speaking  in  a  slightly  more  subdued  tone. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say,"  answered  the  soldier,  and 
again  gravely  saluted,  immediately  going  to  the  outer  door 

265 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

and  locking  it  behind  him.  Without  taking  any  notice  of 
rae,  Marion  sat  down  on  the  low  truckle-bed  and  stared 
thoughtfully  out  after  Tredennis  into  the  semi-darkness 
of  the  main  hall  of  Maclellan's  Wark.  She  seemed  once 
or  twice  on  the  eve  of  speech,  but  refrained  and  remained 
silent. 

''  I  think,  Marion,"  I  said,  after  a  long  pause,  "  that  you 
were  quite  unnecessarily  severe  with  him.  After  all,  and 
according  to  your  own  telling,  Captain  Tredennis  risked 
a  good  deal  to  be  of  assistance  to  you." 

"  I  did  not  wish  him  to  be  of  any  assistance  to  me — nor 
do  I  now !  I  would  die  first !"  she  flashed  out  upon  me, 
stamping  her  foot  as  if  I  were  to  blame.  "  Surely  you 
understand !  He  sat  there  and  looked  me  over  as  if  I  had 
been  a  beast  in  the  drovers'  stalls  at  Dumfries  Cattle  Tryst. 
He  penetrated  my  secret,  and  he  played  with  me,  I  sitting 
before  him  all  ashamed  in  that — that  thrice  abominable 
travesty  of  fools'  motley !  He  knew  it  all  the  while,  and 
he  was  laughing  at  my  shame !  I  could  see  he  was,  and  I 
would  far  rather  have  had  the  old  general's  insolence  a 
thousand  times!  Well  I  knew  how  to  deal  with  that. 
But  this  man  held  me  at  an  advantage,  and  had  no  mercy. 
He  humiliated  me,  and  I  Avill  never  forgive  him — never  !" 

The  door  was  flung  open,  and  Austin  Tredennis  stood 
within  the  portals.  We  could  see  him  against  the  light — 
a  tall,  dark  figure,  girthed  solidly  about  the  chest  like  an 
oak,  but,  in  spite  of  his  great  size,  erect  as  a  pine. 

"  You  arc  at  liberty,  madam,  to  go  where  you  will," 
he  said.  ''  I  have  no  doubt  your  playmate  will  be  able  to 
make  better  arrangements  for  your  safety  and  happiness 
than  it  has  been  the  fortune  of  Austin  Tredennis  to  do !" 


XXXVI 

BY   THE    BUCKLAND    BURN 

<'  rr^HAT  word  seems  to  stick  in  his  gizzard,"  I  whispered 

X  to  Marion,  when  we  had  passed  out  of  the  prison, 
and  were  making  our  way  towards  the  Red  Lion,  where 
Jasper  was  ready  with  the  horses  to  convey  us  to  Orra- 
land. 

"  What  word  ?"  said  Marion,  sharply.  She  seemed  to 
be  thinking  of  something  else — perhaps  of  some  taunt  she 
had  forgotten  to  ply  the  unfortunate  soldier  with. 

"  That  you  called  me  your  '  playmate,' "  I  made  an- 
swer. 

"  God  help  me,  I  have  played  too  long!"  was  the  girl's 
unexpected  reply,  m  a  kind  of  breaking  voice. 

Yet  all  the  while  T  comprehended  as  well  as  another 
woman  her  swift  change  of  mood;  all  the  inconsistency 
and  apparent  ingratitude  of  her  behavior  to  one  whose 
actions  on  her  behalf  had  been  so  much  at  variance  with 
his  official  position.  So  now,  when  she  had  exhausted  the 
outpouring  of  her  wounded  pride,  it  was  natural  that  into 
the  vacancy  thus  created  there  should  flow  the  gratitude 
of  a  strong  and  sweet  nature. 

But  it  was  too  late.  Captain  Tredennis  was  gone.  We 
saw  no  more  of  him  that  day,  nor,  indeed,  for  many  days. 
As  we  rode  away  towards  Orraland,  leaving  the  little  gray 
steeple  and  multitudinous  gables  of  the  old  Dutch-like 
town  huddled  beneath  us,  Marion  seemed  more  than 
usually  sad. 

267 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

It  was  the  fine  mellow  dusk  of  an  October  day,  a  grip 
of  early  frost  already  refreshing  in  the  air,  the  woods  red- 
dening of  their  own  proper  intent  as  well  as  incarnadined 
by  the  sunset,  when  I  detached  myself  from  our  cavalcade 
of  three — Marion,  Jasper,  and  myself — and,  with  a  swift 
look  over  my  shoulder  to  see  that  I  was  not  followed,  rode 
without  drawing  bridle  up  the  little  crooked  sheep-track 
by  the  side  of  the  Buck! and  Burn. 

It  puzzled  myself  how  I  should  content  old  Eobin 
Galtway  and  the  company  of  Levellers,  who  had  accepted 
me  as  in  some  sense  a  leader  for  the  nonce — what  I  should 
say  to  them  with  regard  to  Marion,  and  in  what  way  I 
should  rid  myself  of  the  necessity  of  joining  in  a  useless 
assault  upon  Maclellan's  Wark  in  order  to  release  Harry 
Polwart.  For  I  had  been  more  than  human  if  I  had 
desired  any  better  fortune  to  befall  the  blind  gypsy  than 
that  he  should  be  comfortably  cared  for  in  his  Majesty's 
prison  till  such  times  as  he  should  answer  for  the  deaths 
of  the  bold  excisemen  Craig  and  Trevor. 

It  was  a  curious  thought  to  me,  as  I  made  my  way 
towards  the  solitude  hidden  by  those  yellowing  leaves, 
with  the  Buckland  Burn  running  white  and  brown  alter- 
nate as  deep  pool  succeeded  rocky  fall,  that,  had  I  been  a 
soldier  of  King  George's  instead  of,  for  the  moment,  art 
and  part  with  rebels,  yonder  bosky  silence  of  woodland 
would  have  exploded  at  my  approach  into  rattling  volleys 
of  musketry,  and  this  clean  upland  air,  sweet  with  thyme 
and  heather,  have  been  poisoned  with  the  reek  of  gun- 
powder. 

But  I  was  quite  safe,  and  I  knew  it.  Though,  of  course, 
as  was  my  wont,  I  told  myself  tales,  exciting  myself  like 
a  child  with  imagined  dangers,  while  the  whaups  cried 
overhead  on  their  way  down  to  the  sands  of  the  Isle  which 
the  tide  was  just  leaving  bare,  or  a  belated  humble-bee 
went  blundering  by,  last  of  his  race,  homeward  bound, 
with  his  back-burden  of  ravished  sweets. 

2GR 


BY    THE    BUCKLAND    BURN 

"  Ah,  lad !"  the  voice  came  from  above,  where,  all  alone, 
Eobin  Galtway  had  been  keeping  watch,  "  and  what  news 
do  ye  bring?  Guid,  or  I  am  nae  judge  o'  the  lichtsome  lilt 
o'  your  whistle." 

I  had,  all  unknown  to  myself,  been  whistling  a  tune 
as  I  came — not,  I  am  sure,  to  keep  my  courage  up,  for 
there  was  nothing  akin  to  fear  in  my  heart,  though 
very  considerable  perplexity  as  to  what  I  should  say 
and  do.  As  to  these  last,  however,  I  had  now  to  make  up 
my  mind. 

"  Good !  in  so  far,  at  least,"  I  said,  as  brightly  as  I 
could,  "  your  captain  has  escaped — has  disappeared — no 
one  for  the  present  knows  whither." 

The  old  man  turned  him  about,  and,  with  a  wave  of 
his  arm,  cried  to  the  unseen  company  in  the  hollow  out  of 
my  sight,  "  Lads,  half  our  task  is  done !  Dick  o'  the  Isle 
has  escapit,  and  a'  the  King's  horses  and  a'  the  King's  men 
canna  lay  hand  on  him,  far  or  near !" 

Some  of  the  younger  and  rasher  would  have  set  up  a 
cheer,  but  this  was  forbidden  by  a  second  and  more  im- 
perative movement  of  the  old  man's  hand. 

"And  what  of  that  wild  cat  o'  the  hills,  Hairry  Pol- 
wart  ?"  he  said. 

"  I  fear  I  have  little  tidings  of  him  that  will  afford  any 
comfort  to  his  friends,"  said  I.  "The  case  abides  thus, 
as  I  have  been  able  to  understand  it — Harry  Polwart 
is  attainted  for  no  business  that  concerns  the  Levellers, 
but  for  murder  in  the  first  degree,  rank  and  staring. 
Indeed,  the  beginnings  of  the  fact  I  saw  myself,  and 
Jasper  Jamie,  my  friend,  saw  more  than  I.  Therefore, 
I  see  not  that  either  you  or  any  well-wisher  of  the 
cause  will  advance  matters  a  whit  by  running  into  dan- 
ger of  life  and  limb  for  Harry  Polwart's  sake.  If  he  has 
killed  excisemen  Craig  and  Trevor — why,  let  him  stand  his 
trial,  like  a  man !  Now  Dick  o'  the  Isle  is  out  of  prison 
the   business  of  the  Levellers  at  Kirkcudbright  is  end- 

269 


THE    DARK    0"     THE     MOON 

ed.  For  the  rest,  let  every  herring  hang  by  his  ain  heid, 
say  I !" 

While  speaking  thus  I  raised  my  voice  so  that  those  in 
the  hollow  could  hear  me,  and  as  soon  as  I  had  finished 
there  arose  a  strife  and  contention  among  them,  some  (and 
they  the  elder  and  more  grave)  arguing  that  the  Levellers 
should  accept  my  advice  and  retire  for  that  time  to  their 
homes,  but  others  of  the  younger  sort  eager  to  assault  the 
Castle  of  Kirkcudbright,  and  take  their  chance  of  an  en- 
counter with  the  military. 

Seeing  that  it  would  take  the  licvellers  some  time  to 
decide  this  point,  and  knowing  also  that  they  liked  to 
discuss  their  plans  in  private,  1  withdrew  softly  a  pistol- 
shot  from  the  dell  where  they  were  assembled,  and  so 
it  chanced  that  I  was  able  to  descry  upon  the  face  of  the 
moorland  towards  the  north  the  passage  of  a  considerable 
body  of  cavalry,  riding  loosely  and  easily,  as  if  they  had 
been  upon  a  march  of  considerable  duration. 

With  all  due  care  and  circumspection  I  descended  in- 
stantly from  the  little  hillock  and,  running  on  all  fours 
like  a  rabbit,  made  the  best  of  my  way  to  the  dell,  where, 
as  I  had  anticipated,  the  dispute  was  waxing  ever  more 
fast  and  furious. 

"  There  is  a  good  half  regiment  of  dragoons  passing 
down  there,"  I  said,  "  on  their  way  to  Kirdcudbright.  I 
fear  me  your  Harry  Polwart,  willy-nilly,  must  bide  where 
he  is  for  the  present.  Let  every  man  give  thanks  for  his 
own  safety  and  that  of  your  captain,  '  There  never  was 
an  ill  but  there  might  have  been  a  waur,'  as  the  proverb 
says.  And  if  I  had  not  seen  these  redcoats  on  the  road 
down  there  some  score  of  you  would  have  gotten  a  short 
summons  and  a  long  sleep  this  night,  I'm  thinking!" 

And,  the  kettle-drums  birling  up  at  that  moment,  my 
words  wanted  not  their  effect,  so  that  each  man  began 
to  make  his  own  hasty  preparations  for  flight.  Whereupon, 
without  further  parley,  I  summoned  Sammle  Tamson  to 

270 


BY    THE    BUCKLAXD    BURN 

my  side,  and,  bidding  them  all  a  fair  good-e'en,  we  took 
our  way  anglewise  across  the  hill-side  to  intercept  Marion 
and  Jasper  upon  the  road  to  Orraland. 

And  there  have  been  few  days  of  my  life  on  earth  that  I 
saw  close  with  less  regret  than  that  one. 


XXXYII 

MORN  ON  RATHAN 

MY  father  has  always  said  (and  I  agree  with  him)  that 
there  is  no  prospect  in  the  world  more  beautiful, 
with  a  beauty  that  savors  of  the  city  whose  gates  are 
twelve  pearls,  than  that  from  the  tower  of  the  old  House 
of  Eathan  when  the  sun  is  rising.  Encircled  by  the  sea 
on  all  sides,  the  foreshores  of  Orraland  distant  enough  to 
clothe  themselves  in  soft  haze,  the  points  of  the  Ross  on 
the  one  hand  and  Satterness  on  the  other,  so  far  away  that 
they  are  indistinguishable  from  the  golden  and  amethys- 
tine cloud-bars  through  which  the  sun  rises,  bare  Eathan 
at  such  times  grows  immaterial  as  the  clouds  themselves, 
while  the  sea  to  the  eastward,  tipped  with  multitudinous 
silver  right  into  the  sun's  eye,  becomes  a  broad  highway  to 
a  lost  Avalon  or  to  the  purple  islands  of  an  unknown  sea, 
like  that  which  Cortez  saw. 

It  was  very  well  to  note  down  the  preceding  sentence  in 
my  note-book  at  the  time,  and  argues  a  praiseworthy  dili- 
gence, but  the  fact  is  I  had  not  come  to  Eathan  to  observe 
the  sunrise.  Neither  health  nor  landskip  had  aught  to 
do  with  the  matter.  Joyce  Faa  was  there,  and  I  had  come 
to  see  whether  the  love  which  had  proved  so  potent  in  the 
Dungeon  of  Buchan  would  revive,  to  my  advantage,  on  the 
shores  of  Solway. 

How  Joyce  came  to  Eathan  T  had  bettor  tell  at  once,  and 
in  a  few  words.  Davie  Yeitch,  as  I  anticipated,  had  proved 
entirely  faithful  to  his  promise,  and  with  infinite  good 

272 


MORN    ON    EATHAN 

humor  and  a  sufficiency  of  caution,  had  conveyed  the  young 
officer  in  the  cloak  of  military  blue  safely  past  Orraland 
House — where,  on  the  terrace  walk,  they  could  see  my 
father  walking  to  and  fro,  and  ever  pausing  at  the  point 
nearest  to  the  Kirkcudbright  road  to  gaze  along  it  for  any 
messenger  or  other  sign  of  our  return. 

But,  because  of  the  shy  pride  of  her  heart,  Joyce  would 
on  no  account  permit  herself  to  be  made  known  to  him.  So 
the  two  struck  away  to  the  right,  so  as  to  come  out  on 
the  shore  through  the  hazel  woods  near-by  the  rocky  point 
of  Balcary.  Here,  in  that  same  little  glade  from  which 
my  sister  Grisel  had  been  wont  to  make  her  signals  to 
Marion  of  the  Isle,  Davie  Veitch,  with  steel  and  tinder-box, 
lighted  a  fire  of  leaves  and  dampish  twigs,  or,  as  he  termed 
it,  a  "  smudge." 

It  was  a  clean-aired  autumn  day,  the  sun  bright  but  not 
powerful,  and  the  House  of  Eathan  looked  exceedingly 
bien  and  comfortable,  built  on  a  rocky  knoll,  its  gray  tower 
set  against  the  green  breast  of  the  island  pastures,  and 
Eppie's  blue  pew  of  reek  wafting  full  daintily  upward  till 
the  bluer  sky  of  mid-noon  swallowed  it. 

"  It  looked  a  bonny  place,  and  a  heartsome,"  said  Joyce 
afterwards;  better  than  the  great  new  house  of  Orraland, 
with  its  acre-wide  gardens,  its  flowery  pleasaunces,  and 
green  plantations. 

Meantime,  Davie's  "  smudge "  mounted  high  into  the 
heavens,  and  had  doubtless  been  observed  and  wondered 
at  by  lonesome  sailor-men  on  tall  ships  far  out  at  sea,  as 
well  as  on  land  by  many  watchful  gentlemen  of  his  Maj- 
esty's Preventive  Service,  long  before  there  was  any  re- 
sponse from  Isle  Eathan.  But,  no  ways  discouragedj 
Davie  gathered  dry  wrack  in  yet  greater  plenty.  He  went 
up  among  the  hazels  and  brought  armful  after  armful 
of  twigs,  with  the  leaves  already  beginning  to  turn  and 
the  husked  nuts  still  attached  to  them  in  clusters.  Of 
these  last  Davie  proffered  store  to  his  companion. 
18  273 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

"  If  ye  canna  crack  thein,  sir,"  said  the  youth,  cheer- 
fully, "  I'se  be  glad  to  crack  them  for  ye.  I  hae  graund 
teeth." 

And  opening  such  a  crescent-shaped  mouth  as  is  only  to 
be  found  along  the  shores  of  Rerrick,  Davie  showed  so 
fine  a  store  of  ivory  that  even  Joyce,  with  her  heart  very 
heavy  in  her  bosom,  could  not  help  smiling  with  him — his 
gladness  at  finding  himself  at  home  again  was  so  genuine 
and  contagious. 

"  I  thank  you,"  she  said,  kindly,  and  letting  her  eyes 
dwell  upon  his  honest  face  with  pleasure.  "  I  shall  be  very 
glad  of  the  nuts,  but  I  can  open  them  for  myself." 

"  Bless  my  clog-soles  and  heel-cackers !"  cried  Davie, 
"  but  whaur  do  ye  come  frae  ?  I  declare  ye  speak  juist  like 
001  Marion,  and  faith,  if  ye  haena  gotten  on  her  claes  that 
she  rade  awa'  frae  Orraland  in !  Deil  tak'  me — if  ye  hae 
murdered  oor  Marion,  but  I  wull  slit  your  thrapplc  wi'  my 
ain  gully-knife,  that  I  hae  used  thae  twa  winters  for  shaw- 
in'  turnips !  Ay,  that  I  wull — see  ye  here !  Tell  Davie 
Veitch  whaur  is  oor  Marion,  an'  hoo  ye  cam'  by  thae  claes, 
afore  ye  gang  a  step  farther !" 

And  so  excited  was  the  honest  fellow  that  he  actually 
drew  the  aforesaid  ancient  gully-knife  from  his  pocket  and 
opened  it,  meanwhile  standing  and  stamping  his  foot  on 
the  sand  of  the  little  hidden  bay  from  which  he  had  made 
his  signal. 

Joyce  Faa  sat  still  upon  a  tussock  of  the  barren  brown 
sea-side  common  in  that  place. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  gently,  "  I  have  not  killed  your 
Marion.  But  I  am  a  woman,  like  her,  and  she  made  me 
change  clothes  with  her  that  I  might  escape — " 

"That  was  juist  like  her — juist  like  her!"  cried  the 
youth,  whirling  the  gully-knife  round  his  head  with  a 
joyous  whoof  of  delight.  "  It  maun  be  true,  too,  for  Ma- 
rion was  aye  doin'  things  like  that.  She  yince  gied  me  a 
peerie  (top)  to  stop  me  greetin',  and  then  a  cuff  on  the 

274 


MOEX    ON    RATHAN 

lug  because  I  askit  her  to  gie  me  the  string,  too !  But 
where  is  she  ?" 

"  She  is  in  the  prison  at  Kirkcudbright,"  said  Joyce, 
smiling  at  the  boy's  earnestness  in  praise  of  his  mistress. 
"  But  Mr.  Maxwell  Heron,  and  all  those  men  who  are  with 
him,  have  gone  on  to  rescue  her,  so,  perhaps,  she  will  not 
stay  very  long  there." 

"  Oh  !  Maxwell  Heron  is  nae  great  things  at  the  fechtin, 
I'm  thinkin',"  said  Davie,  a  little  contemptuously ;  "  but 
there's  plenty  wi'  him  that  can  fecht.  Yon  Jasper  Jamie 
yince  gied  bluidy  noses  to  a  hale  crew  o'  smugglers  frae 
the  Isle  o'  Man  that  challenged  him  doon  at  the  Scaur ! 
Oh  !  an'  he  is  juist  a  fair  terror  for  the  lasses — " 

"  I  think  there  is  some  one  coming  across  in  a  boat  from 
the  island,"  interrupted  Joyce,  to  check  the  torrent  of 
somewhat  over-curious  reminiscence,  the  mere  memory  of 
which  was  making  Davie  choke  and  gurgle  in  his  throat 
with  suppressed  merriment.  So  that  it  is  impossible  in 
this  place  to  give  Davie's  recollections  of  Jasper  Jamie's 
amatory  performances,  by  which  in  all  probability  the 
history  is  no  loser. 

At  Joyce's  words  Davie  turned  instantly  and  shut  up  his 
knife  in  a  great  hurry.  He  took  off  his  great,  broad  Kil- 
marnock bonnet,  and  began  using  it  as  a  scoop  to  throw 
sand  upon  the  smouldering  fire. 

"  Dowse  the  smudge,  for  your  life,  man !"  he  cried,  for- 
getting the  sex  of  his  companion.  "  I  can  tell  ye  that  the 
mistress  is  far  frae  canny  when  she  is  roused !  And  be 
ready  to  answer  when  she  speers  at  ye.  Mind  ye  that ! 
The  last  time  she  askit  ony  questions  at  me,  and  I  was 
inclined  to  disremember,  I  declare  I  was  ruled  doon  the 
back  in  blue  lines  frae  my  collar  to  my  shins,  for  a'  the 
world  like  yin  o'  Dominie  Carnochan's  copy-buiks !  And 
for  sax  lang  weeks  I  had  to  look  for  the  saftest  bit  o'  a 
board  afore  I  could  sit  me  decently  doon  on  a  lang  settle. 
Oh,  she's  nane  cannv,  the  mistress,  and  sae  I'm  tellin'  ye !" 

275 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

When  the  boat  neared  the  land  Eppie  Tamson  stood  up 
in  it.  and  with  several  sweeps  of  an  oar  on  either  side, 
nsing  the  lower  blade  in  the  fashion  of  a  paddle,  she  kept 
the  boat  steady  about  a  dozen  yards  from  the  land. 

"  A  heartsorae  mornin'  to  ye,  sir !"  cried  Eppie,  Avhose 
sixty  odd  years  had  not  a  whit  abated  either  her  natural 
force  of  tongue  or  strength  of  arm.  "  What  brings  ye  to 
Rathan  Isle  this  day  so  early?  The  guidman  is  frae  hame, 
and  it's  no'  my  custom  to  hae  young  men  that  I  dinna  ken 
aboot  the  house.  But,  dootless,  ye  hae  a  reason.  Let  me 
hear  it." 

Davie  Veitch  had  judiciously  retired  during  the  first 
hostilities  (or  amenities  as  the  case  might  be),  so  that 
Joyce,  still  in  her  military  cloak,  stood  alone  on  the  shore, 
the  little  waves  lisping  and  hissing  at  her  feet,  and  Eppie, 
in  front  of  her — kindly,  rosy-faced,  and  irascible — steady- 
ing the  boat  against  the  broad  and  shining  plain  of  the  sea. 

"  I  have,  indeed,  a  reason  for  being  here,"  said  Joyce, 
"  as  I  dare  say  A^our  eyes  tell  you.  I  am  no  soldier,  but  a 
woman — a  woman  hunted  for  her  life,  and  yet  without 
having  done  any  crime.  I  have  been  delivered  from  prison 
by  one  noble  and  strong  as  an  angel  of  light — your  daugh- 
ter Marion — " 

"What!"  cried  Eppie,  "did  Marion  send  ye  here? 
Where  is  she?  She  is  nane  o'  my  dochter,  nor  is  she  ony 
mair  like  an  angel  o'  light  than  Davie  Veitch  there  (Guid 
forgie  me  for  sayin'  sae !).  But  it  is  the  Lord's  truth  that 
I,  Eppie  Tamson,  wad  gang  through  fire  and  water  for 
that  lass!  She  never  was  like  ither  lasses  frae  her  cradle, 
and  canna  be  controuled.  Yet,  oh  !  I  am  that  fond  o'  her! 
I  never  ken  how  fond,  till  she  is  awa' !" 

"  She  is  in  the  prison  called  Maclellan's  Wark,  in  Kirk- 
cudbright town,"  said  Joyce.  "  She  is  charged  with  being 
at  the  head  of  the  Leveller  folk,  and  with  having  led  them 
on  the  night  when  they  broke  down  the  laird's  dykes  at 
the  muster  of  Rascarrel." 

276 


MORN    ON    KATHAN 

"  Giiidsake  me  !  I.osh-gosh  !  Lovenenty  !"  cried  Eppie, 
putting  all  the  superlatives  of  her  astonishment  together. 
"  Do  ye  tell  me  sae  ?  Oor  wee  Marion,  that  creeped  into 
my  bed  when  she  was  a  bit  wean  at  ^Mossdale,  and  was  lost 
takkin'  her  faither's  dinner  ower  the  hill,  to  turn  oot  a 
rebel  and  a  Leveller !  It  maun  hae  been  the  years  she 
spent  amang  yon  ootlaw  runnagates  the  Faa's,  up  on  the 
hills,  that  gars  her  do  siclike  things  noo !  Waes  me — waes 
me,  for  oor  wee  Marion !" 

As  she  was  speaking  these  words  the  mistress  of  Rathan 
was  sculling  in  her  boat  with  powerful  strokes,  and  pres- 
ently the  bows  grated  on  the  white  shell-sand  of  the  bay. 
Joyce  Faa  steadied  the  little  craft  a  moment,  with  her 
strong  hand  laid  on  the  planks  of  the  bow. 

"  Before  I  come  on  board,"  she  said,  "  I  must  know  that 
I  am  welcome.  I  am  Joyce  Faa,  the  daughter  of  Hector 
Faa,  one  of  the  outlaws  of  whom  you  were  speaking. 
Perhaps  you  would  not  wish  to  trust  one  of  that  name  on 
your  quiet  Isle  of  Rathan  ?" 

Eppie  looked  a  moment  into  the  dark  and  steady,  yet 
passionate,  eyes  of  Joyce  Faa,  and  then,  with  a  leap  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  nineteen,  was  on  the  bench  by 
her  side.  She  put  her  arms  about  the  girl  with  a  strong 
and  hearty  good-will,  and,  though  caressing  womenkind 
was  not  common  with  her,  she  kissed  the  gypsy's  daughter 
heartily  on  the  cheek. 

"  Lord  bless  me !"  said  Davie  Veitch,  from  his  lair 
among  the  broom,  "  I  wuss  I  had  thocht  on  doin'  that, 
instead  o'  threatenin'  the  lass  wi'  my  gully !  Oh,  Davie, 
Davie !  what  a  gomeril  ye  are !  She's  a  lass  weel  worth 
gettin'  a  kiss  f  rae,  yon  yin,  I  can  tell  ye,  though  she  does 
Avear  the  breeks  I" 

Down  on  the  sand  Eppie  was  speaking  softly  into  the 
girl's  ear  the  first  words  of  hope  and  comfort  she  had  heard 
for  many  a  day. 

"  Come  awa'  ben  to  auld  Eppie,"  she  was  saying ;  "  she 
377 


THE    DAKK    0'    THE     MOON 

kens  a'  aboot  it.  Gypsy  or  gypsy's  dochter  maitter  no'  ae 
whit  when  there  is  sorrow  in  a  lass's  heart  and  that  look 
in  the  e'e  that  Eppie  kens  sae  wee! !  Hoots,  hoots,  bairnie  ! 
Never  greet !  There's  no  a  man  i'  the  wide  world  worth  it 
— unless  he  is  there  himsel'  to  see  ye.  Then  greet  gin  ye 
like !  Greet  your  fill,  and  I'se  warrant  ye  will  get  your  ain 
way.  But  in  the  mean  time  come  your  ways  hame  wi'  auld 
Eppie,  and — whaur's  that  guid-for-naething,  ramshackle, 
oot-jointed  thief  o'  the  world,  Davie  Veitch,  that  I  saw 
wi'  ye?  Deil  hain  me,  gin  T  do  na  scarify  his  hurdles  for 
the  lazy,  ill-conditioned — !  Oh  !  here  ye  are  !  What  do  ye 
mean  by  skulkin'  there  when  ye  see  your  mistress  and  a 
veesitor  tryin'  to  drive  a  boat  into  the  water?  There — 
tak'  ye  that !  And  thae  "  (putting  a  pair  of  oars  into  his 
hands),  "  and  see  that  ye  bring  us  straight  as  a  die  to  the 
Shell  Cove  o'  Kathan,  or  by  my  certes  the  same  identical 
hazel-oil  I  anointed  ye  wi'  last  time  is  ahint  the  kitchen 
door  unto  this  day !" 

So  it  was  in  this  fashion  that  Joyce  Faa  came  home  to 
my  ancestral  Tower  and  Isle  of  Rathan. 


XXXVIII 

THE    AUMRY    OF    THE    ISLE 

BUT  it  was  quite  otherwise  when,  as  I  began  to  tell  in 
the  beginning  of  the  last  chapter,  Marion  and  I  land- 
ed together.  We  took  my  father's  boat  from  Orraland 
pier,  and,  with  Sammle  Tamson  to  row  us,  we  crossed  very 
early  in  the  morning,  reaching  Eathan  Tower  while  the 
October  rime  still  lay  white  even  on  the  prickly  hollies 
and  spiked  seabents  of  the  pasture  edges. 

But  knock  as  we  might  on  the  spiked  outer  door  of 
Rathan,  and  call  as  we  would  up  to  the  narrow  windows 
set  deep  in  the  vast  thickness  of  the  walls,  there  came  to  us 
no  answering  greeting.  Ko  thin  shaft  of  kindly  smoke  took 
the  air  from  Eppie's  kitchen  chimney  in  the  sheltered  gable- 
end.  Never  a  clog-shod  heel  clattered  responsively  down 
the  stone  turnpikes  of  the  staircase.  Our  hearts  began  to 
tremble  within  us,  with  we  hardly  dared  to  think  what  of 
peril  and  terror. 

It  was  Sammle  Tamson  who  spoke  first,  as  we  looked 
stupidly  at  each  other. 

"  The  Aumry,"  he  said,  suddenly ;  "  something  will  hae 
disturbit  them.  They'll  maybe  be  in  the  Cave  o'  the 
Aumry." 

And  I  must  admit  that  when  I  remembered  Grice 
Baillie's  stable-cavern  in  the  Dungeon  of  Buchan  a  stound 
of  fear  shot  through  me.  I  involuntarily  shuddered  as  I 
thought  of  Joyce,  and  Marion's  eye,  quick  to  note  all 
things,  observed  the  movement.  She  laid  her  hand  kindly 
on  my  arm. 

279 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

"  The  Cave  of  Isle  Rathan  is  no  ill-place  of  harborage," 
she  said.    "  Come  with  me,  and  you  shall  see." 

Of  course  I  knew  by  heart  all  the  famous  history  which 
my  father  had  written  when  he  was  a  young  man,  con- 
cerning Rathan  Great  Cave  and  all  that  happened  there. 
During  the  quiet  years  that  followed  the  raiding  it  had 
even  become  a  kind  of  show-place  for  idle  Sunday  pil- 
grimages, till  one  August  day  certain  Orraland  callants 
(Mdio  ought  to  have  been  decently  in  the  kirk  listening  to 
honest  IMaster  Hallyburton)  undertook  to  swim  within  the 
water  entrance  of  the  cave  when  the  tide  was  running  sea- 
ward like  a  mill-race.  Three  of  them  were  never  heard 
of  or  seen  again,  and  the  body  of  another — a  bonny  lad 
called  Donald  Cavan — was  cast  up  on  the  Orraland  beach 
almost  in  front  of  his  mother's  door.  So  after  that  my 
father  forbade  all  ingress  to  the  Isle  or  its  caverns,  save 
by  permission  and  under  escort  of  Sammle  Tanison  or  his 
wife  Eppie. 

I  expected,  therefore,  when  Marion  spoke  of  the  Cave  of 
the  Aumry,  that  it  was  to  this  famous  place  of  whistling 
winds  and  unquiet  tides  we  were  about  to  adventure  in  the 
l)oat.  So  I  was  manifestly  astonished  when  Sammle  took 
his  way,  cannily,  and  apparently  as  confidently  as  if  we 
were  going  to  fodder  the  cattle,  through  the  little  rearward 
yard  of  the  tower.  Then,  entering  the  cow-shed,  he  set  his 
hands  to  the  side  of  the  byre  farthest  from  the  light.  It 
was,  like  all  the  rest,  walled  with  split  "  stobs  "  with  the 
rounded  side  outward,  and  the  rough  bark  was  polished 
as  smooth  as  the  head  of  a  walking-stick  by  the  rubliing  of 
the  cows'  hairy  sides  as  they  went  in  and  out  of  their 
stalls. 

With  a  firm  and  knowledgable  hand  Sammle  lifted  half 
a  dozen  of  these  "stobs"  bodily  out  of  their  places  six 
inches  or  so,  when,  to  my  surprise,  they  swung  back  upon 
a  pair  of  well-greased  hinges  and  revealed  a  low  door  of 
unpainted  wood.     Upon  this  he  knocked  in  a  peculiar 

280 


THE    AUMKY    OF    THE    ISLE 

fashion,  and  it  was  not  long  before  it  was  opened  from  the 
inside,  and  I  saw,  peering  out  into  the  darkness  of  the 
byre,  the  comfortable  face  of  Eppie  Tamson. 

"  Save  us  !"  she  cried.  "  What's  this?  Marion,  how  gat 
ye  hame,  lassie?  Come  your  ways  in!  I  hae  juist  been 
settling  a  bonny  lass  in  the  Aumry — that  you,  Maister 
Maxle,  will  be  proud  to  see,  or  ye  are  no'  your  faither's 
son !" 

Bidding  us,  therefore,  have  a  care  of  our  crowns  and 
walk  circumspectly,  the  old  lady  turned  into  a  long,  dark 
passage  cut  in  the  rock,  which  presently  turning  at  right 
angles,  I  found  myself  ascending  steps  so  high  and  so 
many  that,  taking  the  height  of  the  tower-yard  where  we 
went  in,  I  knew  that  if  we  went  on  we  must  soon  come  out 
upon  the  top  of  the  Isle. 

Now  I  knew  well  that  all  our  island  of  Rathan  and  the 
opposite  coasts  of  Portowarren  and  Douglasha'  are  riddled 
with  caves  and  holes.  So  I  was  in  no  wise  astonished  at 
this  new  proof  of  the  subterranean  resources  of  my  native 
isle.  I  only  followed  on,  eager  to  see  where  Joyce  had 
been  bestowed,  and,  with  a  strange  constriction  of  the 
heart,  to  find  out  how  she  might  receive  me. 

All  at  once  Eppie  came  to  another  door.  It  stood  half 
open,  and  lo !  a  light  beyond  showed  me  a  wide  and  pleas- 
ant house-place — a  fire  in  one  corner,  some  chairs  and 
stools,  not  ill-made,  and  in  a  screened  recess  all  roofed 
and  boarded  with  wood  a  couple  of  beds,  each  large  as  a 
family  coach — and  not  so  very  unlike  that  conveyance, 
either,  in  being  screened  from  draughts  with  heavy  cur- 
tains and  ascended  to  by  a  flight  of  steps. 

Eppie  turned  her  about  and  smiled  a  welcome  upon  us 
all. 

We  were  in  the  Aumry,  it  appeared,  a  place  which  had 
been  made  by  the  ingenuity  of  my  father  and  the  labor 
of  Eppie's  husband,  soon  after  Patrick  Heron  brought  his 
bride  to  Isle  Rathan. 

281 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

"  There  were  mony  dangers  in  thae  days  by  sea  and  land, 
ye  ken,"  said  Eppie,  with  meaning,  "  and  Patrick  Heron 
was  no  the  man  to  lose  his  wee  white  hen  the  second  time." 

But  I  had  neither  time  nor  inclination  to  listen  to 
Eppie's  historical  explanations  as  to  the  construction  of 
the  cave,  but  hastened  to  where  by  the  window  Joyce  Faa 
stood,  clad  now  in  one  of  Marion's  frocks,  and  looking, 
though  pale,  sweeter  and  lovelier  than  even  in  her  own 
IShiel  of  the  Dungeon. 

Marion  was  before  mc,  and  had  already  taken  the  girl 
in  her  arms,  and  whispered  something  in  her  ear  which 
brought  the  color  flooding  to  her  cheek. 

Then  I  went  up  and  held  out  my  hand. 

But  Joyce  went  pale  again  as  she  reached  out  her  own 
past  Marion,  yet  for  a  long  moment  her  eyes,  great  and 
dark,  looked  unflinchingly  into  mine  as  I  stood  holding 
her  fingers. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again.  Maxwell,"  she  said. 

But,  without  a  shade  of  coquetry  or  self-consciousness, 
she  permitted  me  to  retain  her  hand  a  full  minute  before 
withdrawing  it.  There  could  not  have  been  a  sweeter, 
simpler,  or  more  unaffected  greeting.  Yet,  for  all  that, 
there  was  something  in  her  eyes  which  struck  me  to  the 
heart.  I  felt  that  there  could  be  no  hope  for  me.  I  knew 
that  I  loved  this  girl  with  all  my  heart.  I  believed  that 
she  loved  me.  But  somehow  it  seemed  too  late.  This  was 
not  my  lightsome  Joyce,  who  had  run  the  mountains  of 
the  Dungeon  with  me  like  a  young  roe,  whose  eyes  had 
turned  pleasurably  to  me  as  we  came  slowly  homeward  in 
the  twilight,  or  paused,  finger  on  lip,  in  a  pretty  endeavor 
to  disentangle  from  her  store  of  nun's  French  the  name  of 
some  small  mountain  flower. 

This  was  a  woman  (so  it  seemed  to  me  as  I  looked  at 
her)  who  had  passed  through  the  fire — who,  having  tasted 
of  the  Waters  of  Marah,  had  found  the  tree  of  healing  cut 
down,  and  the  waters  yet  more  bitter  there. 

282 


THE    AUMRY    OF    THE    ISLE 

Her  lips  might  smile,  but  hopelessness  remained,  as  it 
had  been  intrenched  in  her  eyes.  It  was  a  thing  not  good 
to  see  on  the  face  of  a  young  lass — still  worse  to  know  that 
all  might  have  been  otherwise  but  for  my  own  folly. 

That,  at  least,  was  my  thought,  as  I  greeted  Joyce  Faa 
in  the  comfortable  Aumry  which  my  father  had  constructed 
ere  he  would  trust  his  bonny  May  on  "  Rogues'  Island," 
as  in  those  days  Rathan  Isle  was  often  called. 

But  in  addition  to  what  he  had  done,  during  these  last 
years  our  wilful,  wayward  Marion  had  spent  much  time 
contriving  comforts  and  securities  for  this  true  Cave  of 
Adullam.  At  first  it  had  been  little  more  than  a  child's 
play  with  her,  but  since  she  had  grown  older  and  become 
more  deeply  concerned  in  the  business  of  the  Levellers, 
she  had  suborned  her  father  to  help  her,  and  between  them 
they  had  completed  a  couple  of  rooms  boarded,  and  with 
a  raised  floor  of  hewn  logs,  to  keep  out  the  damp.  The 
outer  of  these  could  only  be  used  in  fine  weather.  It  con- 
tained a  long  opening,  roughly  hewn  to  imitate  nature, 
oblong  to  the  measurement  of  something  like  from  four 
yards  vertically  to  half  as  much  perpendicularly.  Behind 
this  the  rock-dwelling  opened  spaciously  with  benches  of 
wood  and  seats  hewn  out  of  the  native  rock.  But,  of 
course,  the  winds  and  frosts  of  a  Scottish  October  made 
this  ante-chamber  only  occasionally  habitable.  The  inner 
room,  however,  was  completely  different,  being  lighted  by 
two  windows,  small,  but  of  good  glass,  and  containing  a 
fireplace  whereon  a  fire  of  charcoal'  had  been  recently 
lighted. 

.  This  was  to  be  the  abode  of  these  two  maidens  during 
certain  days  of  peril,  while  one  of  them,  at  least,  was 
sought  for  far  and  near. 

After  a  few  minutes  within  the  Aumry  I  signalled 
to  Sammle,  and  we  two  made  our  ways  back  again  through 
the  underground  passage  which  my  father  had  constructed 
after  the  closing  of  the  former  entrance  by  the  gi'eat  fall 

283 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

of  rock  now  called  "  Captain  Yawkin's  Quarterdeck."  So 
skilfully  had  this  been  done  that  even  when  examining  the 
work  with  a  lantern  I  had  some  difficulty  in  distin- 
guishing that  which  was  natural  from  what  had  been 
Avrought  by  the  hand  of  man.  Sammle  stood  at  the  out- 
side of  the  barn,  and  told  me  with  quite  unwonted  enthu- 
siasm how  he  had  been  sent  to  bring  good  quarrymen  and 
stono-eutters  from  Workington,  in  Cumberland.  He  point- 
ed out  the  exact  blowing  patch  of  reek  on  the  distant 
English  coast  where  some  of  these  men  still  dwelt. 

"  Though,  eonsiderin'  what  characters  thae  Englishers 
are,  wi'  their  warslin'  an'  dowg-fechtin'  and  cock-fechtin' 
and  set  drinkin's,  it's  mair  nor  likely  that  there's  no  yin 
left  a  bane  the  sod  to  tell  the  tale  o'  the  queer  den  that 
they  helpit  to  mak'  mair  than  twenty  year  syne  upon  Isle 
Rathan." 

T  ventured  to  say  to  Sammle  that  it  was  a  wonderful 
thing  that  my  father  had  never  spoken  of  it  to  me.  He 
laughed  a  little,  and  turning  on  his  long  storks'  legs  as  on 
a  pedestal  of  which  only  the  top  joints  would  work  (and 
these  but  partially),  he  answered  me. 

"  Faith,  IMaister  Maxle,  ye  maun  ken  your  faither  but 
little  if  ye  think  he  canna  keep  a  secret  to  himsel'  when 
need  be.  At  the  first  it  was  a  compact  between  us  that  this 
hidie-hole  that  we  ca'  the  Aumry  was  to  be  keepit  between 
himsel'  an'  me.  But  when  Eppie  and  me  cam'  here  to  bide, 
of  course  it  behooved  that  she  should  find  it  oot.  Sae  it  was 
the  simplest  plan  to  tell  her.  For  ye  are  acquaint  wi'  oor 
Eppie.  What  she  is  no  telled  she  will  find  oot,  and, 
generally  speakin',  a  deal  mair  than  ve  were  na  prepared 
for ! 

"  Sae  I  gat  your  faither,  Maister  Patrick  Heron's,  con- 
sent to  tell  Eppie,  and  yae  day  when  we  were  ganging  into 
the  Aumry  to  pit  things  to  richts  (for  it's  a  place  that  by 
the  nature  o'  the  case  tak's  a  heap  o'  keepin'),  Eppie  sent 
Marion  as  usual  doon  to  the  sands  to  play.    But  the  wee 

284 


THE    AUMRY    OF    THE    ISLE 

witch  followed  her,  keeping  close  to  her  tail,  and  jookin' 
aneath  a  buss  o'  broom  or  heather  as  often  as  Eppie  turned 
to  look.  And  by  my  faith  she  slippit  by  her  mither  some- 
where, and  was  in  the  Aumry  as  sune  as  her.  The  besom ! 
She  should  hae  been  lickit  for  that.  Bvit  somehow  or  ither 
I  never  could  bear  to  lay  hands  on  the  bit  thing  in  anger. 
No,  nor  Eppie,  either — though  whiles  Eppie  hasna  spared 
her  wi'  that  guid-gaun  tongue  o'  hers.  But  I  never  kenned 
ony  differ  that  it  made  to  Marion.  She  has  aye  been  the 
lass  that  ye  see  the  day,  neither  mair  nor  less !" 

"  The  girl  who,  to  save  a  friend's  life,  could  risk  her 
own,"  I  said,  thinking  to  please  him. 

Sammle  smiled  a  queer,  far-away  smile,  as  if  he  could 
see  farther  into  his  daughter's  character  than  I. 

"  It  may  be  sae,"  he  said,  "  it  may  be  sae.  But  I  kenned 
Marion  a  gye  while,  and  though  she  wad  be  willin'  eneuch 
to  save  anither  lass's  life,  she  wad  aye  hae  some  fish  o'  her 
a  in  to  fry,  too — or  Sammle  Tamson  is  muckle  mistaken !" 

Then  at  that  I  smiled,  too.  For  I  knew  that  the  fish 
Sammle  spoke  of  clinked  cavalry  spurs  and  blew  tobacco 
smoke  through  its  gills ! 


XXXIX 

EPPIE    TAMSON,    COUNSELLOR    AND    AUTOCRAT 

THE  days  that  followed  were  days  of  great  activity 
and  danger  npon  the  mainland,  and  especiall}^  in  the 
vicinage  of  the  ancient  burgh  of  Kirkcudbright.  For 
though  the  presence  of  the  new  regiment  sent  south  from 
Glasgow  to  compel  immediate  attention  to  the  mandates 
of  the  commander-in-chief  prevented  any  direct  attack  of 
the  Levellers  on  Maclellan's  Wark,  yet  the  substitution  of 
another  commissioner  of  higher  rank  and  more  pronounced 
opinions  for  Captain  Tredennis,  was  manifested  imme- 
diately in  the  increased  severity  which  was  shown  to  the 
Levellers  and  all  their  works. 

Workmen  brought  from  a  distance  began,  under  escort 
of  mounted  soldiery  (who  rode  unwearyingly  to  and  fro 
while  the  others  built),  to  restore  on  a  much  more  extensive 
plan  and  in  a  more  solid  style  the  dykes  which  had  been 
destroyed  after  the  muster  of  Kascarrel.  The  new  com- 
mander, Colonel  Collinson,  was  brother-in-law  to  Colonel 
Gunter;  and  mainly  through  his  influence  with  General 
Fitzgeorge  a  scries  of  domiciliary  visitations  was  begun, 
by  means  of  which  the  lairds  hoped  to  get  into  their  hands 
the  chiefs  of  the  Tjcveller  movement,  so  that  the  common 
sort,  deprived  of  their  leaders,  might  gradually  settle 
down  with  some  content  to  the  new  state  of  affairs. 

Indeed,  that  was  happening  in  the  Lowlands  which  hap- 
pened a  quarter  of  a  century  later  in  the  Highlands.  The 
common  folk  of  Galloway  recognized,  indeed,  that  the  land 

286 


EP.PIE    TAMSOX,    AUTOCEAT 

belonged  in  some  sort  to  the  lairds,  but  they  had  not  yet 
got  rid  of  the  ancient  idea  that  it  was  held  by  the  chief  of 
the  sept  or  clan  in  trust  for  his  people.  Especially  was  this 
so  with  regard  to  the  moors  and  wide  hills  incapable  of 
cultivation,  which  had  always  been  considered  common 
grazing  for  the  poor  folk's  sheep,  and  where  every  little 
valley  and  green  gusset  of  meadow-land  between  two  waters 
sheltered  its  croft  or  holding  where  in  times  long  gone  by 
a  family  had  squatted,  and  by  centuries  of  labor  had  won 
a  few  scanty  parks  from  the  surrounding  wilderness  of 
bog  and  heather. 

But  all  was  now  to  be  changed.  The  lairds  were  no  more 
of  the  people.  They  had  taken  the  side  of  what  all  Gallo- 
way considered  an  alien  and  persecuting  communion  dur- 
ing the  reigns  of  Charles  and  James.  Thus  in  most  cases 
they  had  been  divorced  in  sympathy  from  the  clan  or  sept 
with  which  they  were  ancestorily  connected. 

Add  to  this  that  many  of  the  original  landlords  had 
either  been  dispossessed  as  disloyal  to  some  party  or  other 
during  the  long  troubles,  or  had  been  driven  to  sell  their 
lands  to  strangers  from  a  distance.  Hardly  ever  had  addi- 
tional property  passed  into  the  hands  of  a  Galloway  man 
of  aboriginal  stock  save  in  the  case  of  my  own  father — ^Ir. 
Patrick  Heron  of  Rathan. 

The  new-comers,  such  as  my  Lord  Kirkham  and  Colonel 
Gunter,  of  course,  considered  these  settlers  on  these  lands 
and  hill-side  crofters  as  so  many  incumbrances.  They  set 
their  lawyers  to  work,  and,  discovering  that  the  poor  folk 
possessed  no  claims  to  their  little  holdings  save  that  of 
having  entirely  created  them,  built  up  every  stone  and  sod 
of  office  and  dwelling-house,  and  cultivated  in  peace  their 
two  or  three  scanty  parks  and  meadows  of  rough  grass  for 
centuries,  they  proceeded  to  clear  their  lands  of  them  and 
all  their  works. 

A  few  of  the  more  kindly  disposed — having  human  hearts 
within   them — gave   sites  whereon  the  dispossessed   were 

287 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

permitted  to  erect  other  cottages,  huddled  more  closely 
together.  And  this  was  the  origin  of  many  of  our  Gal- 
loway villages  of  to-day.  But  the  greater  landlords  did 
not  desire  any  such  settlements  near  their  borders,  regard- 
ing them  solely  as  refuges  for  the  disaffected,  as  nurseries 
of  poaching,  smuggling,  and  general  unprofitableness. 

So  the  edict  "  To  be  Banished  Furth  of  Scotland  "  began 
to  figure  at  every  court  of  justice  to  which  resistance  to 
inclosure  Avas  reported.  And  poor  families,  expelled  from 
their  little  cottages,  had  to  wander  into  England  or  en- 
deavor to  find  some  ship's  captain,  who,  in  return  for 
the  right  to  dispose  of  their  services  in  the  colonies  for  a 
period  of  years,  was  willing,  as  a  speculation,  to  transport 
them  to  Massachusetts  or  Connecticut  or  the  growing 
settlement  of  New  Amsterdam,  farther  to  the  south. 

But  naturally  there  were  many — young  fellows  of  high 
heart  and  courage — accustomed  to  the  use  of  rude  weapons 
and  hardened  by  field  lal)or,  who  could  not  be  brought  thus 
tamely  to  submit.  And  when  Colonel  Gunter  and  my  Lord 
Kirkham,  by  arrangement  with  the  government,  proceeded 
to  carry  out  their  policy  of  "  Thorough,"  naturally  enough 
they  had  to  face  such  roving  bands,  otiicerod  frequently 
by  some  old  Covenanter,  who  in  his  time  had  trudged  into 
Edinburgh  to  defend  the  Convention  of  the  '89  against  the 
troopers  of  Clavers  and  the  more  dangerous  parchment 
bonds  of  the  Bluidy  Mackenzie. 

But  there  was  little  eliance,  unless  a  true  leader  chanced 
to  appear  to  draw  the  Levellers  into  some  kind  of  cohesion, 
that  they  could  make  any  head  against  regular  soldiers. 
And  in  the  mean  time  there  were  many  search ings  of  heart 
and  v/aggings  of  head  throughout  the  wilds  of  Galloway 
when  the  "  hated  red-coats  "  were  again  seen  crossing  the 
moors  to  visit  a  solitary  cot-house,  or  beating  the  heather- 
bushes  and  searching  the  moss-liags  for  some  celebrated 
fugitive. 

Aa  old  Robin  Galtwav  meditated,  looking  down  from  his 
288 


EPPIE  TAMSON,  AUTOCRAT 

hiding  on  the  side  of  the  Bennan  Hill,  and  watching  the 
scarlet  jackets  of  the  dragoons  filing  up  the  side  of  the 
Loch  of  Ken,  "  Verily  do  I  remember  what  guid  Maister 
Alexander  Peden,  that  remarkable  seer  of  things  to  come, 
prophesied,  as  1  niA'self  hoard  him  by  the  thorn-buss  o' 
Friarminion,  '  A  bluidy  sword  for  thee,  0  Scotland,  that 
shall  pierce  to  the  hearts  of  many !  Many  miles  shall  ye 
travel,  and  see  nothing  but  desolation  and  ruinous  wastes. 
Many  a  conventicle  has  God  wearcd  on  thee,  puir  Scotland, 
but  now  God  will  make  a  covenant  with  thee  that  will 
make  the  world  tremble  !'  " 

Thus  over  and  over  to  himself  mourned  Eobin  Galtway 
in  his  heather-bush,  recalling  the  things  that  had  been. 

But  over  on  Isle  Eathan  there  was  little  bruit  of  these 
things.  For  my  father's  high  repute  in  the  country,  and 
the  good  odor  in  which  he  had  stood  with  the  govern- 
ment ever  since  the  former  troubles,  made  Colonels  Gunter 
and  Collinson  somewhat  loath  to  meddle  with  him.  And 
as  for  Lord  Kirkham.  he  had  once,  when  a  young  man, 
refused  my  father's  challenge,  accepting  in  lieu  thereof 
certain  strokes  of  Mr.  Patrick  Heron's  malacca  cane.  So, 
not  unnaturally,  he  had  some  delicacy  in  meddling  with 
one  who  still  carried  a  similar  weapon  about  him. 

But  one  day  there  arrived  in  the  house  of  Orraland  a 
perquisition  in  name  of  the  commander-in-chief  of  his  ]\Iaj- 
esty's  forces  in  Scotland,  setting  forth  "  that  whereas  a 
certain  noted  rebel,  called  sometimes  '  Dick  of  the  Isle ' 
and  sometimes  '  Marion '  of  the  same,  being  a  person  of 
doubtful  sex  and  various  disguises,  was  suspected  to  be 
lurking,  in  companionship  with  one  Joyce  Faa,  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  noted  outlaw.  Hector  Faa  by  name — a  party  of 
H.^1.  Dragoons  would  visit  Mr.  Patrick  Heron's  property 
upon  a  day  afterwards  to  be  fixed."  The  day  was  purposely 
left  doubtful,  and  in  the  same  communication  General 
Fitzgeorge  called  upon  a  subject  of  such  known  loyalty  as 
Mr.  Heron,  of  Eathan,  to  assist  the  authorities,  by  every 
19  289 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     M(X1X 

means  in  his  power,  to  capture  the  said  offenders  and  re- 
store them  to  the  prison  of  Kirkcudbright,  from  which  they 
had  feloniously  escaped. 

My  father  was  on  the  Terrace  Walk  when  this  citation 
was  delivered  to  him  by  an  orderly.  He  perused  the  docu- 
ment with  his  usual  care,  refolded  it,  and  stood  regarding 
the  soldier  for  a  moment  or  two  thoughtfully,  flicking  the 
paper  across  the  palm  of  one  hand  with  the  lingers  of  the 
other. 

"  Mr.  Patrick  Heron's  compliments  to  the  commander- 
in-chief,"  he  answered,  "'"'  and  be  good  enough  to  tell  him 
that  both  he  and  every  honest  servant  of  the  King  is  wel- 
come at  Orraland  any  day  and  every  day." 

Then  my  father  called  for  a  tass  of  brandy  for  the 
messenger,  slipped  a  silver  groat  in  his  hand,  returned  his 
salute  punctiliously,  and  with  a  somewhat  disturbed  heart 
watched  him  ride  away. 

So  excellent  was  the  report  which  the  orderly  carried 
back  to  the  commander-in-chief  that  no  party  of  perquisi- 
tion ever  came  near  Orraland  or  Rathan,  and  we  on  the 
isle  lived  in  as  much  security  as  if  we  had  been  on  foreign 
soil  with  no  trouble  within  a  thousand  miles  of  us. 

Yet  it  was  thought  ])rudent  that  my  father  should  know 
nothing  (officially)  of  these  ongoings,  being  a  magistrate 
and  liable  to  be  put  on  his  oath  at  any  moment.  So  when 
any  of  us  spoke  at  table  of  the  Aumry,  or  concerning 
Marion  of  the  Isle  and  Joyce  Faa,  he  would  feign  a  mighty 
ignorance,  and  say,  "Who  may  these  young  persons  be?" 
Or  it  might  be,  "  Maxwell,  I  wish  you  would  not  show  your 
learning  by  speaking  in  tongues.  Pray  remember  that  I 
am  a  plain  man — and  a  magistrate  I" 

My  mother,  on  the  other  hand,  was  so  happy  at  getting 
me  safe  back  that  she  went  frefjuently  over  to  the  island, 
and  was  good  enough  to  say  that  JMistress  Joyce  Faa  was 
a  modest  maiden,  and,  considering  all  things,  wondrously 
well  educated — though  (here  spoke  my  dear  mother  in  her 

290 


EPPIE  TAMSON,  AUTOCRAT 

properest  person)  not  quite  so  remarkably  beautiful  as  she 
had  been  led  to  expect !  As  for  my  sister  Grisel,  the  girl 
was  in  the  heights  of  delight  at  having  not  only  Marion, 
but  such  another  companion  as  Joyce  within  reach.  And  it 
was  only  my  father's  absolute  command  that  kept  her  from 
taking  up  her  abode  permanently  at  the  Aumry,  the  ar- 
rangements of  which  she  admired  with  girlish  enthusiasm. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  one  day  to  Marion,  "  that  you 
should  be  the  happiest  girl  in  all  the  world.  You  have 
everything  that  earth  can  give.  Why,  the  Garden  of  Eden 
could  hardly  have  been  better.  You  wear  doublet  and  hose 
when  you  will — " 

"  The  costume  of  Eden  might  be  considered  even  more 
remarkable,"  put  in  Clarion,  smiling,  but  my  sister  was  in 
too  great  a  hurry  to  notice  the  interpolation. 

"  You  live  in  a  cave,  hidden  from  every  one,  with  parties 
of  soldiers  looking  for  you  everywhere !  The  handsomest 
one  of  all  is  in  love  with  you  I  Oh  yes,  he  is !  I  know  he 
is !  Maxwell  says  so.  Oh !  I  do  wish  I  could  he  anything 
else  than  what  I  am — a  commonplace,  comfortable,  break- 
fast-dinner-and-supper  girl,  with  the  same  old  snuff-col- 
ored frock  to  wear  every  week-day,  and  a  nasty  green  silk 
23aduasoy  skirt  for  Sundays  !" 

And  our  Grisel,  being  greatly  disturbed  in  her  mind  by 
the  manifold  disadvantages  of  her  position,  burst  into 
tears. 

As  for  me,  being  as  it  were  in  the  plot,  my  presence  was 
almost  essential  upon  the  island  every  day.  I  slept  (when 
I  did  sleep)  at  Orraland,  but  by  earliest  daybreak  I  would 
be  up  and  loading  a  basket  with  provisions  which  my  good 
mother  had  gathered  together  over-night.  Then,  leaving 
the  house  by  a  back  door,  I  went  down  to  the  little  pier  my 
father  had  built,  rowed  across  to  the  island,  beached  my 
boat,  and  lo !  there  I  would  be  knocking  up  Eppie  when 
the  early  cock  had  hardly  done  crowing  upon  the  office 
riggings  of  Isle  Rathan. 

291 


THE     BAEK     0'     THE     AIOON 

"  Eh,  laddie,  ye  mind  mc  o'  your  faither,"  the  old  lady 
would  cry  with  delight,  for  I  was  a  favorite  with  her. 
"  I  never  thoeht  before  ye  had  as  muckle  o'  the  auld  man's 
spunk  in  yc.  Bide  a  wee  till  I  get  on  my  stockin's,  can  ye 
no,  ye  graceless  whelp?  Wad  yc  shame  an  auld  woman 
wcel  on  in  her  fourth  score  o'  years,  besides  giein'  her  her 
daith  o'  cauld,  a'  to  let  ye  in  a  minute  sooner  wi'  your 
bundles  and  cook-me-denties  ?  Fie,  for  shame,  lad !  Yet 
it's  a  blythe  day  to  my  heart  to  see  ye  sac  gleg  aboot  a  lass. 
I  was  aye  feared  that  ye  wad  turn  oot  a  sumph,  wi'  your 
buiklear  an'  gatherin'  o'  crabs'  legs  and  sea-pyes'  eggs,  and 
never  ony  word  in  the  country-side  o'  ye  takin'  up  wi'  ony 
lass,  gentle  or  semple !" 

Eppie's  meditations  coincided  in  quantity  with  the  stage 
of  undress  at  which  I  had  surprised  her.  Presently  1  would 
hear  her  come  shuffling  to  the  door,  her  "  hoshcns,"  or 
wide,  loose  house-slippers,  making  a  faint  rustling  on  the 
stone  floor. 

"  Come  in  wi'  ye,  then,"  she  would  say,  opening  the  door 
wide  in  pretended  indignation ;  "  raising  decent  law-abid- 
in'  folk  oot  o'  their  naked  beds  to  ready  breakfasts  to  you, 
and  a  couple  o'  hizzies  that  daurna  show  their  faces  like 
honest  lasses  at  kirk  and  market !  What  liae  ye  gotten  in 
that  basket?  D'ye  think  Eppie  Tamson  haesna  as  guid 
bacon-ham — ay,  and  mutton-ham,  too — as  ye  can  fetch 
f rae  the  braw  hoose  o'  Orraland  ?  What !  that's  venison, 
is  it  ?  Weel,  and  that's  nae  news  to  Eppie  Tamson !  Do 
ye  think  I  hae  comed  to  my  time  o'  life,  and  had  a  man  that 
leeved  sae  lang  on  the  flowe  o'  IMossdale,  withoot  kcnnin' 
honest  venison  when  T  see  it?  But  tea — save  us !  kimmcrs, 
that's  an  unchancy  foreign  drink  !  T  canna  bide  it,  and 
they  tell  me  it's  doom's  dear,  too !  Weel,  a'  brews  are  guid 
for  something;  some  to  cure  the  sair  heid  and  some  to 
mak'  a  heid  sair.  For  me,  gie  me  my  honest  dish  o'  brose. 
Parritch-an'-milk  is  guid  cncuch  for  puir  auld  Eppie.  But 
young  idle  folk  maun  pamper  the  flesh  wi'  their  foreign 


EPPIE  TAMSON,  AUTOCRAT 

stews  an'  ragoos,  their  sugar-ploom  custards  an'  Eytalian 
kickshaws !  Lovenenty  me !  It's  gettin'  to  be  a  bonny 
world !" 

Nevertheless,  there  was  nothing  that  Eppie  liked  better 
than  to  set  out  for  our  delectation  a  noble  moorland  break- 
fast, with  the  addition  of  flounder  fresh  in  the  pan  which 
her  husband  brought  up  from  the  tidal  flats  to  the  land- 
ward of  Rathan,  where  my  father  had  caught  the  like  so 
many  years  before.  There  was  the  platter  of  mutton-ham 
cut  so  fine  that  a  breath  of  wind  would  blow  it  away  in 
flakes,  a  braw  hearty  ashet  of  ham  and  eggs,  together  with 
three  or  four  kinds  of  scones  and  oatcakes.  All  that  I 
could  have  wished  in  addition  was  that  when  the  two  girls 
came  from  their  chamber,  through  which  the  sweet  airs 
of  the  sea  had  been  blowing  all  night  and  morning,  they 
should  have  brought  with  them  such  appetites  as  I  had, 
after  my  early  rising  and  long  pull  at  the  sculls  through 
the  dour  and  lumpy  waters  of  the  bay. 

But  I  could  not  conceal  from  myself  that  neither  Marion 
nor  Joyce,  though  they  could  walk  all  day  in  perfect  safety 
on  the  seaward  side  of  the  island,  had  quite  their  former 
l^rightness  of  eye  and  gladsome  spring  of  carriage.  That 
Marion  was  anxious  and  fretting  it  was  easy  to  see.  She 
said  no  word  either  of  the  Levellers  or  of  that  sturdy 
captain  of  horse  and  hard-bitten  soldier,  Austin  Tredennis. 
Nor  for  a  while  could  I  make  out  which  of  the  two  sub- 
jects was  most  on  her  mind. 

As  for  Joyce,  I  had  not  been  often  upon  the  island  before 
I  saw  that  she  had  covenanted  with  Marion  not  to  leave 
her  alone  with  me.  Yet,  mingled  wath  the  disappointment, 
there  was  a  kind  of  pride  also.  For  I  knew  that  she  would 
not  have  shunned  an  interview  unless  she  had  been  in  a 
manner  afraid  of  my  influence  over  lier. 

But  it  was  in  Eppie  that  I  found  my  gallantest  and  most 
thorough-going  ally. 

"  I  am  an  auld  woman,  me  that  yince  was  young,  and 
293 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

(the  lads  said)  not  uncomely,  but  yet  have  I  never  seen  ony 
guid  come  o'  haudin'  to  an  oath  hastily  sworn.  Had 
Sammle  come  to  me  and  said,  '  Eppie,  ray  woman,  I  hae 
made  a  mistak' ;  it's  no'  you  I  want  to  mairry  !'  I  wad  e'en 
hae  said  to  him,  '  Sammle,  Quid's  blessin'  that  ye  fand  it 
oot  noo  and  no  later !'  And  gin  this  lass  o'  yours  has  tryst- 
ed  to  mairry  that  red-wud  Hielant  reiver  they  caa'  Hairry 
Polwart,  it's  nocht  but  an  ill-promise  and  a  hasty  word — 
like  the  vow  o'  that  eediot  Jephthah  in  Scripture,  wha  for 
the  sake  o'  his  oath  cut  aff  the  life  o'  that  puir  young  thing 
his  dochter,  and  should  hae  been  hangit  high  as  Haman  or 
that  rascal  Hairry  Polwart  will  be  the  next  week  as  ever 
was!  Sae  bide  ye  here,  till  ye  see  what  will  happen.  We 
will  send  ower  Davie  Veitch  to  the  hangin',  and  he  will 
bring  us  word.  Then  we  will  see  what  this  Mistress  Joyce 
o'  yours  will  say  to  that.  Yet  I  opine,  whatever  she  may 
say,  she  will  be  a  glad  woman  and  a  prood  woman  to  hear 
the  last  of  Hairry  Polwart  and  her  vow  thegither !" 

For,  though  I  had  kept  the  matter  from  the  maids,  my 
father  had  been  in  at  Kirkcudbright,  and  brought  us  word 
that  the  blind  gyj)sy  had  been  condemned  to  be  hanged  on 
a  new  gallows,  in  front  of  iMaelellan's  Wark  the  following 
Monday.  The  trial  for  the  murder  of  the  gaugers  had  been 
a  brief  one.  Polwart  had  refused  to  plead  before  that  or 
any  tribunal,  and  when  asked  if  he  had  anything  to  say, 
remarked  only  "  1  saw  not  tlie  men  killed.  T  know  nothing 
of  the  matter."  Nor  would  he  at  all  reveal  who  were  his 
co-partners  in  the  deed. 

So  Davie  Veitch  was  despatched  to  report  on  the  pro- 
ceedings. For  my  father  could  not  abide  such  scenes,  and, 
besides  my  private  disinclinations  to  be  present,  I  judged 
that  it  might  look  vindictive  if  I  went  thither,  and  per- 
haps prejudice  my  cause  with  Joyce  Faa. 

Eppie  was  an  extraordinary  comfort  to  me  during  all 
this  time,  and  many  a  long  afternoon  did  1  pass  beside  the 
bake-board,  listening  to  the  dunt-dunt  of  her  roller-pin  as 

394 


EPPIE  TAMSON,  AUTOCRAT 

it  spread  out  the  dough,  and  hearkening  to  her  brave  talk, 
all  compact  of  Scots  sense  and  strength  and  vivid  expres- 
sion. I  have  forgotten  much  of  it  now,  and  even  when  I 
remember  and  set  it  down,  the  essence  of  the  matter  seems 
to  have  evaporated.  For  it  was  less  her  words  than  the 
whole  scene,  the  clapper  of  the  waves  coming  up  briskly 
beneath  the  tower,  the  crackle  of  the  wood  and  peat  under 
the  iron  girdle,  the  warm,  comfortable  smell  of  the  ready- 
ing scones  and  cakes,  and  (I  may  as  well  own  it),  above  all, 
the  sense  that  at  any  moment  Marion  and  Joyce  might 
come  out  of  the  Aumry,  arm  in  arm,  and  set  themselves 
down  anent  to  me  on  the  lang  settle — that  made  the  im- 
pression memora])le.  And  I  think  that  more  than  anything 
these  long  days  of  converse  with  Eppie  (for  I  saw  not  much 
of  the  girls)  made  me  cast  off  many  shreds  of  dandifica- 
tion  which  I  had  learned  by  being  kept  hedged  too  close 
within  the  pale  of  my  kind  mother's  anxieties. 

For  Eppie,  homely  in  person  as  she  was,  of  speech  un- 
polished, and  sometimes  stormy  in  debate,  had  nothing  un- 
gracious or  acerb  about  her.  A  kinder  or  a  kindlier  woman 
met  I  never  one.  And  she  would  tell  me  tales,  one  after 
another,  as  long  indeed  as  I  liked  to  listen,  of  old  days  when 
she  dwelt  about  the  Moat  of  Parton,  and  of  her  court- 
ships by  many  others  beside  Sammle.  "  This  was  afore 
his  time,"  was  the  formula  with  which  she  introduced 
these.  Or,  still  oftener,  she  would  tell  me  of  my  own  kins- 
folk, of  the  boyhood  and  girlhood  of  Patrick  Heron  and 
May  Maxwell,  of  my  grandfather,  John  Heron,  whom  I 
had  never  seen,  but  whose  memory  she  greatly  revered, 
and  of  all  that  gay,  fast-running,  eventful  time  which  made 
these  present  trials  of  Levellers  and  dragooning  seem  to 
her  but  light  and  evanescent. 

In  especial  there  was  one  subject  on  which  she  was 
inimitable.    I  think  I  hear  her  yet. 

"  Let  nae  man  mairry  oot  o'  his  degree,"  she  would  lay 
down  the  law.     "That  may  not  be  the  first  and  great 

2'95 


THE    DARK    0'     THE     MOON 

commandment,  but  it  is  like  unto  it,  hear  ye  that,  Max- 
well. And  what  for  then,  say  ye,  is  Eppie  Tamson,  that  is 
auld  eneuch  to  ken  better,  doin'  her  leevin'  best  to  help 
you  (that's  a  laird's  son  and  will  heir  a'  Eathan  and  Orra- 
land)  to  mairry  an  outlaw's  dochter,  a  gypsy  o'  the 
Egyptians,  a  lass  tainted  wi'  the  ill-doing  o'  ithers  that 
are  her  kin?  But  bide  ye,  lad ;  I  will  redd  up  the  maitter. 
This  shall  not  always  be  so.  If  Silver  Sand  means  what 
he  says  (and  I  never  kenned  him  do  ither,  heather-gypsy 
as  he  is),  be  you  assured  that  the  lassie  is  o'  as  guid  kin 
as  yoursel' !  And  if  no,  what  then  ?  There  the  lassie  is. 
Ye  see  her.  She  is  bonny  to  look  upon,  and  desirable — at 
least  in  the  e'en  o'  Maxwell  Heron.  Then  she  is  so  weel 
edicate,  Marion  tells  me.  No  the  like  o'  her  in  the  country- 
side. She  can  bake  and  eke  brew,  and  at  a  fine  seam — 
faith,  I  can  tell  ye  even  Eppie  Tamsdn  couldna  do  better 
in  her  best  days !  And  that  is  nae  starved  boast !  Weel, 
suppose  Silver  Sand  be  wrang,  and  the  lass's  kin  are  but 
sheep-stealers  and  cattle-thieves  after  a' — what  o'  that? 
'Tis  scarcelins  two  hunder  year  since  the  Herons  o'  Eathan 
were  nae  whit  better!  And,  mair  nor  that,  what  guid  can 
a  wheen  auld  ancestors  do  ony  man,  lyin'  up  in  the  kirk- 
yard  yonder?  Allow  that  ye  willna  mairry  Joyce,  for  the 
sake  of  your  grand  forbears — will  the  coats  o'  airms  on 
their  tombs  console  ye  when  ye  think  on  the  wimples  o'  the 
silken  hair  that  curls  aboot  her  brow,  or  gar  ye  forget  the 
lang  look  oot  o'  the  glancin'  e'e  or  the  hand  laid  confidingly 
in  yours  as  ye  gang  up  the  brae  o'  life  thegither?" 

"  But,  Eppie,"  f  said,  "  T  am  not  thinking  at  all  of  these 
things.  In  such  a  matter  I  do  not  give  the  value  of  a  plack 
for  all  my  ancestors  put  together.  The  shoe  pinches  quite 
the  other  foot.  Joyce  will  not  marry  me.  She  thinks  her- 
self bound  in  honor  to  this — this  blind  gypsy.  She  will 
scarce  permit  me  the  poor  grace  of  a  word  with  her.  What 
shall  I  do?" 

Eppie  laughed  a  little,  biii  there  was  a  kind  of  con- 
296 


EPPIE  TAMSON,  AUTOCRAT 

temptuous  echo  in  her  tone,  as  if  she  held  that  a  man 
ought  not  to  need  instruction  in  any  such  simple  matter. 

"  G}T5sy  here  an'  promise  thtre,"  she  said.  "  Saunders 
Lennox's  tow  rape  will  break  mony  a  promise  on  Monday 
mornin'  by  nine  o'  Kirkcudbright  clock.  Bide  till  then, 
laddie;  say  no  word.  And  even  if  he  get  a  reprieve,  put 
your  trust  in  auld  Eppie.  She  has  kenned  the  world 
for  mair  years  than  the  age  o'  the  pair  o'  you  foolish  young 
folk  pitten  thegither.  When  a  lass  deals  wi'  a  lad  as  Mis- 
tress Joyce  Faa  has  dealt  wi'  you.  Maxwell — it  is  no  a 
random  tryst  wi'  a  blind  gypsy  that  will  twine  them  !" 

"Ah,  but  Eppie!"  I  said,  a  little  sadly,  "you  do  not 
know  Joyce.    She  is  not  like  other  maids." 

"  I  have  never  yet  kenned  a  lad  that  thocht  his  lass  like 
ither  lasses,"  said  Eppie,  smiling,  and  refusing  to  be  dis- 
comforted. "  He  wad  be  a  puir  stick  if  he  did.  But  be  at 
ease.  This  Joyce  of  yours  has  made  a  crony  o'  oor  jMarion, 
and—" 

"  Has  Marion  told  you  anything  ?"  I  cried,  starting  up 
eagerly,  for  this  would  have  been  information  at  first  hand. 
Eppie  put  me  down  with  a  contemptuous  gesture. 

"  Ye  little  ken  Marion  if  ye  think  sae,"  she  said.  "  Na, 
na;  it's  nae  carried  tale,  but  Eppie  Tamson  has  e'en  in 
her  head.  And  brawly  she  kens  what  it  means  when  twa 
lasses  keep  oot  o'  the  road  when  a  lad  comes  aboot  the 
hoose,  yet  watch  him  frae  the  tower  window  when  his  back 
is  turned — ay,  even  till  he  has  drawn  up  his  boat  in  Bal- 
cary  Bay — then,  syne  come  their  ways  doon  the  stairs  wi' 
their  airms  linkit,  whispering  the  yin  to  the  ither,  as  if 
a'  the  secrets  o'  the  universe  were  on  their  bit  silly  minds." 

And  Eppie  laughed  again — a  kind,  self-gratulatory, 
pleasant  laugh,  good  to  listen  to. 

"  Na,  na !"  she  said,  in  conclusion ;  "  siclike  things  had 
a  meanin'  when  Eppie  Tamson  was  young.  I  say  not 
what  that  meanin'  is.  But  gin  ye  hae  ony  difficulty  o'  in- 
terpretation, ye  are  a  greater  gomeril  than  I  tak'  ye  for ! 

297 


THE     DAKK     0'     THE     MOON 

Da  vert,  I  hae  letting  my  cakes  burn,  talkin'  clavers  wi' 
you !    Oot  o'  this  wi'  ye !" 

Verily  a  comfortable  counsellor  was  Eppie,  High  Auto- 
crat of  the  Isle,  and  there  is  small  wonder  that  I  sojourned 
often  in  her  kitchen  during  these  bright,  brisk  October 
days  when  I  waited  upon  fate. 


XL 

THE    HANGING    OF    HARRY    POLWART 

THIS  is  the  report  of  Davie  Veitch,  commissioner  ex- 
traordinary from  the  house  of  Eathan,  who  was 
charged  to  attend  the  execution  of  one  Harry  Polwart,  con- 
victed of  murder  in  the  first  degTce.  and  to  return  the  same 
night  with  a  full  account  of  the  last  words  and  testi- 
mony of  the  aforesaid. 

Tt  was  late  when  Davie  arrived,  and  the  girls,  Marion 
and  Joyce,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  matter,  had  long  gone 
to  their  hidden  apartments  in  the  Aumry,  to  which  I  had 
never  been  invited  since  that  first  morning  when  Sammle 
and  I  came  home  with  Marion. 

As  had  been  arranged,  I  met  Davie  at  the  landing-place, 
being  under  a  solemn  covenant  with  Eppie  to  allow  him  to 
speak  no  word  till  she  and  I  could  catechise  him  together, 
and  so,  as  it  were,  start  fair.  Sammle,  as  an  unimportant 
supernumerary,  was  allowed  to  be  present,  but  had  no  privi- 
leges, either  deliberative  or  catechistical.  He  was,  however, 
graciously  permitted  to  exclaim  "  Guidness  gracious !"  at 
intervals,  under  his  breath,  but  that  was  felt  to  be  his 
limit. 

I  had  great  difficulty  in  restraining  Davie  on  the  way 
up  to  the  house  of  Eathan,  so  as  to  keep  my  promise  in 
letter  and  spirit. 

"  Oh,  Maister  Maxle !"  he  called  out,  as  soon  as  ever 
he  came  within  shouting  distance,  "  sic  a  tirrivee  as  there 
has  been  in  the  auld  burgh  toon !" 

299 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

"  Hold  your  tongue  just  now !  Jump  out,  and  help  me 
with  the  boat." 

"  But  I  maun  tell  ye !  Sic  a  thing  will  never  be  heard 
tell  o'  atween  noo  and  doomsday  !" 

"  ]^ot  a  word  till  we  get  to  the  house,  Davie  Veiteh,  or 
ye'll  get  Eppie's  stick  across  your  shoulders  with  a  ven- 
geance." 

"Will  I  so?  Lord!"  cried  Davie,  contemplating  this 
painful  close  to  a  day  of  delights.  "  Weel,  Maister  Maxle, 
lend  me  your  napkin  to  ram  intil  my  mooth  as  I  gang  up, 
or  I  declare  I'll  burst !" 

At  last,  however,  Davie  was  ready  to  tell  his  tale.  He 
was  seated  in  the  fine  old  house-place  of  TJathan,  with  the 
fire  dimpling  on  the  hearth,  and  throwing  a  thousand 
dancing  reflections  on  the  brass  and  copper  vessels,  pre- 
serving-pans, and  candlesticks,  which,  even  more  than  the 
consolations  of  religion,  were  the  delight  of  Eppie's  reason- 
able soul. 

Conscious  of  all  our  eyes  upon  him,  Davie  took  his  final 
sup  of  porridge-and-milk  in  some  haste,  and,  with  a  long 
sigh  of  manifest  repletion,  stretched  out  his  legs  to  begin 
the  tale.  For  Eppie  had  insisted  on  this  reading  of  the 
old  saw,  "  There  is  nae  talk  between  a  full  man  and  a 
fasting." 

"  Na,  na,  tak'  your  parritcli  first,  laddie!"  sbc  had  said. 
"  A  hungry  man's  tale  is  no  worth  the  hearin'.  He  aye 
wants  to  say  '  Amen,'  and  be  at  liis  bicker." 

"Had  the  puir  lad  a  sair  way-gaun?"  said  Sammle, 
who  could  not  understand  all  this  pomp  of  preparation  for 
what  would  have  been  a  small  matter  with  him.  But  Eppie 
hushed  him,  for,  like  the  Alhenians,  she  took  great  delight 
in  telling,  and  even  more  in  hearing,  a  new  thing. 

"  Let  the  boy  tell  his  tale,  Sammle  Tamson,  and  baud 
ye  your  wheesht !"  she  commanded.  "  Ye  haena  shown 
yoursel'  sae  fu'  o'  wisdom  thae  last  sax  months  that  ye 
canna  wait  five  minutes  to  increase  your  stock !" 

300 


THE  hangi:n'g  of  hakry  polwart 

"'  That's  the  very  reason  T  hae  need  to  be  in  a  hurry," 
began  Sammle,  but,  chancing  to  look  up,  the  mere  terror 
of  Eppie's  countenance  struck  him  suddenly  dumb. 

And,  being  thus  assured  of  an  attentive  auditory,  Davie 
opened  his  budget. 

"  It  was  a  brave  day,  and  a  pour  o'  folk  a'  the  road  to 
Kirkcudbrie,"  he  said,  settling  himself  comfortably  to  a 
lengthy  recital.  "  I  declare  it  was  like  a  holy  fair,  only 
instead  o'  Testaments  and  Psalm-buiks  in  white  napkins, 
ilka  body  carried  flasks  and  wee  bottles  o'  brandy  made 
flat  for  the  pocket — very  serviceable  and  commodious.  I 
had  some." 

"  Davie,"  cried  Eppie,  "  gin  ye  hae  been  led  into  ony 
sinful  excesses — I'll  hear  o't,  mind  ye,  and  as  sure  as  my 
name  is — " 

"  Let  the  boy  gang  on !"  said  Sammle.  "  He's  sittin' 
there  aneath  your  nose,  talkin'  like  a  Christian,  and  what 
mair  wad  ye  want  ?    Smell  his  breath  an'  hae  dune  wi'  it !" 

"  A  bonny  Christian  !"  said  Eppie,  scornfully,  "  wi'  his 
brandy  bottles  afore  nine  o'clock  o'  the  day,  and  him  no 
yet  oot  o'  his  teens  I" 

Davie  waited  for  this  little  marital  dispute  to  be  settled, 
and  then  philosophically  continued  his  story.  He  alone 
knew.  The  others  only  wanted  to  know.  It  was  a  fine 
position. 

"  Weel,"  said  Davie,  "  we  gat  to  Kirkcudbrie  in  coorse  o' 
time,  and  I  declare  the  street  were  fair  black  wi'  fowk. 
There  were  booths  and  tents  and  drinkin'  wickers,  a'  wat- 
tled wi'  sauch  wands  as  if  it  had  been  a  Stanykirk  sacra- 
mental occasion,  or  maybes  Borgue  Fast  Day.  And  the 
singin'  and  dancin'  in  the  square,  afore  the  puir  laddie 
that  was  to  be  hangit  cam'  oot,  was  fair  sickenin'  to  be- 
hold. For  me,  I  Juist  couldna  hae  tholed  the  sicht  o't  if 
I  hadna  gotten"  (here  he  caught  Eppie's  eye) — "a  wee 
drap  milk : 

"  Sae  awa'  I  gaed  roond  the  big  bulk  o'  Maclellan's  Wark, 
301 


THE     DAKK     0'     THE     MOON 

and  there  at  the  back,  awa'  frae  the  feck  o'  the  crowd,  I 
gets  my  e'en  on  a  score  or  twa  o'  muckle  swank  fellows, 
and  though  the  mornin'  was  braw  and  fine,  wi'  a  kindly 
sun  and  nae  wind,  every  man  o'  them  was  wrappit  up  in 
his  plaid  cloak,  as  if  it  had  been  blawin'  snaw  in  the  month 
o'  December." 

(At  this  point  Eppie  stole  a  glance  at  Sammlc  Tamson, 
as  if  to  convict  him  of  an  interest  in  these  plaided  men; 
but  Sammle  was  gazing  meditatively  at  the  firestone,  and 
drawing  figures  of  eight  in  the  air  with  the  red  end  of  a 
stick  which  he  had  lifted  from  the  hearth.) 

"  So  I  keeped  as  near  them  as  I  could,  and  faith  !  when 
I  gat  a  glimpse  of  their  faces,  I  kenned  mair  nor  half  o' 
them—" 

"I  think  ye  were  mistaken,  mair  likely,"  said  Sammle, 
with  a  sly  kick  at  Davie,  still  gazing,  however,  at  the 
stick.  The  red  end  had  gone  out,  and  he  began  to  rub 
the  newly  washed  hearth  with  the  l)lackened  end. 

"Wha's  interfcrin'  wi'  the  tale-tellin'  noo?"  cried  Eppie 
to  her  husband,  at  the  same  time  reaching  forward  and 
taking  the  stick  out  of  his  hands. 

"  And  if  I  were  a  man,"  she  said,  "  and  had  been  catched 
frequentin'  sie  company,  as  ought  not  to  bo  so  much  as 
named  afore  my  married  wife,  I  wad  at  least  hae  mair 
sense  than  to  fyle  her  clean  hearth-stane  wi'  dirty  scrab- 
bles !" 

Sammle  sighed,  but  made  no  reply.  When,  however, 
Eppie  bent  forward  to  throw  the  stick  to  the  back  of  the 
fire,  he  got  an  opportunity  of  treading  heavily  on  Davie's 
toes,  which  caused  that  youtb  to  emit  a  sharp  "  Ouch  !" 

"What's  that?"  said  Kj)pic,  looking  up  suspiciously  at 
the  pair  of  them. 

"  Oh,  it  was  juist  a  spark  frae  the  fire !"  averred  Davie, 
promptly.    "  Green  birk  is  the  deil  an'  a'  for  spelkin' !" 

"  Weel,  drive  on,  then  !"  cried  Eppie.  "  We  want  to 
our  beds  afore  the  cock  craws  in  the  morn." 


THE    IIAXGIXG    OF    HARRY    POLWART 

"  Sae  I  left  the  lads  wi'  the  plaids  at  the  back  o'  the  gaol, 
for  I  didua  like  their  looks,  and  comes  roond  again,  elbow- 
in'  my  way  through  the  tents  and  booths.  And  then  there 
gaed  up  a  great  cry  frae  the  folk,  for  the  marshal  men 
began  to  drive  them  this  way  and  that.  The  tents  and 
sweetie-stands  were  cowpit  and  whammelt  here  and  there, 
as  if  there  had  l^een  a  suddent  and  maist  violent  hurri- 
cane had  descended  out  o'  the  lift  o'  heeven — " 

Davie  was  proud  of  this  touch,  and  paused  a  moment  to 
observe  its  effect  upon  his  circle  of  hearers.  Greater  orators 
and  tale-tellers  than  Davie  do  the  same.  But,  alas !  there 
is  no  Eppie  Tamson  to  keep  them  in  cheek. 

"  If  ye  dinna  tell  what  ye  hae  to  say  straightforrit," 
cried  Eppie,  with  a  significant  motion  of  her  thumb  over 
her  shoulder,  "  mind  ye,  the  hazel-stick  hangs  ahint  yon 
door.  It  has  garred  ye  speak  the  truth,  and  that  richt 
hastily,  before  noo  I" 

"  Weel,"  said  Davie,  proceeding  more  humbly  as  to 
style,  '•'  hurricane  or  no  hurricane,  at  ony  rate  the  booths 
were  knockit  heels  ower  held  in  a  minute,  and  a'  the  aip- 
ples  an'  brandy-balls  disappeared  in  the  tuilzie.  I  gat 
some! 

"  Then  oot  frae  the  barracks  where  the  sodjers  had  been 
musterin'  (it  was  just  a  wheen  hooses  they  turned  the  puir 
folk  oot  o')we  hear  the  soond  o'  the  trump  and  kettle- 
drum. Fegs !  they  gied  me  pin-and-needles  cloon  my  back, 
to  think  o'  the  puir  blind  wretch  in  there  that  wad  be 
hearin'  them,  too.  z\nd  then  a  muckle  sheet  that  they 
had  coverin'  a  kind  o'  black  platform  afore  the  Castle  fell 
to  the  grund  wi'  a  whush !  And  there,  in  front  o'  oor  e'en 
was  the  awesome  gallows,  and  the  hangman,  Saunders 
Lennox,  and  anither  lad,  frae  I  kenna  where,  standin' 
waitin'.  And  as  I  am  a  leevin'  man,  though  when  the  folk 
first  saw  the  black  '  wuddy '  and  the  '  drap,'  they  gied  a 
kind  o'  soond  like  '  A-A-A-Ah  !' — in  ten  minutes  they  were 
busy  at  the  drinkin'  again,  and  some  o'  the  ill-set  burgh 

303 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

loons  were  playin'  '  tig '  between  the  black,  grewsome  legs 
o't !  Faith,  and  I  do  not  wonder,  for  there  on  the  platform 
itsel'  stood  Saunders,  the  hangman,  crackin'  jokes  to  his 
mate  and  testin'  the  slip-knot  o'  the  hempen  rape  wi'  his 
teeth !  Heard  ye  ever  the  like  o'  that,  Sunday  or  Satur- 
day ?" 

None  of  us  ever  had,  and,  as  we  all  wanted  to  hear  the 
immediate  sequel,  Eppie  motioned  imperiously  to  Davie 
Veitch  to  proceed. 

"Then,  wi'  a  brisk  rataplan,  rataplan,  and  a  muckle 
jingle  o'  braw-glancin'  swords  and  a  shakin'  o'  bridle-bits, 
the  dragooners  marched  into  the  square,  dividin'  here  and 
formin'  there,  drivin'  the  folk  afore  them  like  sae  mony 
sheep. 

"  x\nd  the  wonder  o'  it  was  that  they  appeared  to  care 
nae  mair  than  if  they  liad  been  on  the  side  o'  Ben  Gairn, 
wi'  no  a  soul  near  them  for])ye  the  whaups  and  the  black- 
faced  sheep !  Oh,  it  maun  be  a  graund  thing  to  be  a  dra- 
gooner,  better  than — " 

Here  Eppie  half  rose  from  her  seat,  with  a  glance  at  the 
hazel-wand  and  a  kind  of  compression  of  the  lips  which 
were  quite  enough,  for  thereafter  Davie  proceeded  with 
increased  speed. 

"  But  there  was  nae  mair  daffin'  amang  the  crowd,  nae 
knockin'  doon  o'  auld  wives'  stalls,  but  a  queer  dinnelin' 
kind  o'  silence  as  the  sodjers  arrayed  themselves  in  a 
muckle  square  afore  the  scaffold.  And  the  strange  thing 
was  that  they  turned  the  heids  o'  their  horses  to  the  plat- 
form and  the  beasts'  hurdics  to  the  crowd.  And  whenever 
the  folk  began  to  be  ower  pressing,  yin  o'  the  sergeant 
loons  wad  say  a  word,  and  syne  half  a  dizen  of  the  muckle 
black  chargers  wad  begin  to  back  in  amang  the  folk  and 
•mak'  play  wi'  their  heels.  T^evellers,  indeed  !  ]\Iy  certes ! 
gin  ever  it  comes  to  a  fecht  wi'  the  Levellers,  the  dragoon- 
ers has  only  to  turn  their  horses  and  chairge  hinderlands 
on,  and — weel,  Davie  Veitch  will  no  be  there!     Na,  na! 

304 


THE    HANGING    OF    HAERY    POLWART 

Davie  will  be  '  ower  the  hills  an'  far  awa','  as  the  auld 
sang  says. 

"  But  this  wasna  for  lang.  A'  the  folk  began  to  look  at  a 
window  i'  the  side  o'  the  keep.  The  frame,  if  ever  it  had 
yin,  was  gane,  and  noo  it  lookit  juist  like  a  door,  and  was 
hung  wi'  black  on  ilka  side.  Then  for  a  lang  minute  a' 
was  quiet  as  pussy,  and  the  queer  dinnelin'  in  my  inside 
gat  aye  the  queerer.  I  didna  appear  to  mysel'  to  hae  a 
single  article  in  my  wame  aneath  my  heart,  and  that  gaed 
thump-thump,  heavy  and  slow,  as  if  it  wad  burst  my  verra 
ribs. 

"  And  fegs,  as  the  sweat  brak'  cauld  on  me,  I  wasna  sae 
sure  that  after  a'  it  micht  na  be  Davie  Veitch  that  was 
gaun  to  be  hangit  that  day ! 

"  And  a'  the  while  there  was  a  muckle  drum  somewhere 
that  had  been  duntin'  muffled-like  and  steady — no  yin  o' 
thae  wee  shirr-r-rin  yins,  but  a  muckle  slow,  solate,  Day- 
o'-Judgment  kind  o'  drum  that  it  made  me  fair  meeserable 
to  hear.  And  a'  in  a  minute  it  stoppit,  and  there — there 
at  the  black  window  was  a  minister  comin'  through  wi'  an 
open  bulk  in  his  hand.  He  was  dressed  in  his  gown  and 
bands,  like  an  Episcopian,  and  ahint,  wi'  a  sodjer  richt 
and  left  o'  him,  his  hands  pinioned  to  his  sides,  but  for  a' 
that  straight  as  the  fir-tree  in  the  clints  o'  Screel,  cam 
forth  the  man  they  were  there  to  hang — Hairry  Polwart. 

"  Ay,  and  though  the  folk  had  cursed  him  afore,  ye 
ken,  and  caaed  him  '  bluidy  murderer '  and  ither  siclike 
ill  names,  as  soon  as  they  saw  him,  and  his  sichtless  e'en  as 
white  as  bane,  there  grew  up  a  kind  o'  peety  for  him,  too. 
For  the  folk  began  to  mind  that,  after  a',  it  was  nocht  but 
a  couple  of  gangers  that  had  been  made  awa'  wi' ! 

" '  And  Guid  kens,'  said  the  man  at  my  elbow,  '  there's 
nae  lack  o'  them  that  I  ken  o'  in  this  country-side,  that  they 
should  make  siccan  a  to-do  aboot  a  odd  couple !' 

"  Sae  instead  o'  cryin'  to  the  hangman  to  '  gie  him  a 
short  drap  and  a  lang  kick,'  as  is  the  custom,  there  fell 
20  305 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

sic  a  silence  amang  the  folk  that  we  could  hear  the  minis- 
ter busy  at  his  prayin',  though  the  words  that  he  spak'  we 
couldna  hear, 

"  Then  cam'  the  sheriff,  and  dooms  grand  he  lookit  wi' 
the  sword  o'  justice  carried  in  state  afore  him;  and  he 
had  something  to  read  frae  a  paper,  I  ken  na  what.  But 
last  o'  a'  he  askit  Hairry  Polwart  if  he  had  onything  to  say 
before  he  was  '  launchit  into  eternity.'  That  was  what 
he  caaed  being  hangit,  but  I  jaloose  it  was  a'  the  same 
thing. 

"  Howsomever,  the  gypsy  was  a  fine-pluckt  lad,  and 
answered  sae  that  everybody  could  hear  that  '  he  had  nocht 
to  say,  and  that  if  they  were  ready,  he  was !' 

"  Then  the  folk  gied  a  bit  cheer  that  died  oot  maist  afore 
it  could  be  caaed  a  cheer.  But  the  sodjers  looked  side- 
ways at  yin  anither,  and  says  here  and  there  atween  the 
ranks,  '  We  are  hanging  a  man  this  day !' 

"  And  though  I  had  been  watchin'  the  scaffold  wi'  a'  my 
e'en,  yet  I  hadna  missed  to  tak'  a  glance  by  whiles  at  the 
wee  cloud  o'  lads  wi'  the  plaidies  that  keepit  sae  close 
thegither.  I  could  see  them  workin'  in  and  workin'  in  till 
they  were  close  to  the  horses'  heels  o'  the  dragooners. 
And  syne,  when  I  lookit  closer,  plague  on  it !  if  they  hadna 
in  the  midst  o'  tliem  twa  men  grippit.  I  couldna  think 
what  their  purpose  micht  be,  but  I  wasna  keepit  lang  in 
suspense.  For  the  sheriff  ended  his  speechification  and 
stood  back.  Then  Saunders  Lennox  began  to  bustle  and 
mak'  himsel'  great,  stampin'  on  the  platform  o'  tlie  scaffold, 
tuggin'  at  the  rope,  and  arrangin'  it  carefu'-like  roond  the 
puir  lad's  neck  like  a  *  gravat ' — syne  aff  wi'  it  again,  as 
if  he  couldna  get  the  fashion  o'  it  to  his  mind. 

" '  Stand  a  wee  this  way,  ma  man,'  we  heard  him  say, 

*  an'  ye  will  swing  some  easier.'    And  faith — there  got  up  a 

*  Booh  !'  amang  the  crowd  at  this,  and  a  voice  cried  oot : 
'  Be  quick,  Saunders,  or  we'll  gie  ye  a  bit  swing  yoursel', 
and  never  chairge  hangman's  dues  for  it  neither !' 

80G 


THE    HANGING    OF    HARKY    POLWART 

''  Then  a'  at  yince,  when  every  e'e  was  on  the  platform 
and  waitin'  for  the  faain'  o'  the  drap,  there  cam'  a  sudden 
disturbance  at  the  far  side  o'  the  square.  The  dragooners' 
horses  were  pushed  aside  like  sae  many  collie  dogs,  and 
the  score  o'  plaided  lads  rushed  into  the  clear  plot  o'  grund 
afore  the  scaffold.  The  sodjers  drew  their  swords  and 
plunged  after  them,  but  afore  a  blade  had  time  to  faa' 
some  yin  amang  them  cried  oot: 

"  '  Up  wi'  them,  lads !' 

"  And  there  on  the  scaffold,  maist  touchin'  Hairry  Pol- 
wart,  him  wi'  the  death-bonnet  drawn  ower  his  sichtless 
e'en  and  the  hangman's  cord  round  his  neck,  stood  the  twa 
deid  excisemen.  Supervisor  Craig  and  Robin  Trevor,  that 
he  had  been  condemned  for  murderin' ! 

"  Oh,  it  was  graundly  dune,  and  sic  a  yell  gaed  up  as 
never  was  heard  aboot  the  auld  waa's  o'  Maclellan's  Wark. 

"  '  Craig !'  they  cried,  and  syne,  '  Trevor  !'  '  To  the 
wuddy  wi'  them  !'  '  What  business  had  they  cheatin'  us 
like  this,  and  us  come  to  see  a  hangin' !' 

"  For,  ye  see,  bein'  excisemen,  everybody  within  ten 
mile  kenned  them  by  headmark — if  it  were  only  to  keep  oot 
o'  their  gate,  and  lee  to  them  when  they  cam'  speerin' 
quastions.  And,  faith  o'  my  body,  mistress,  the  Kirkcudbrie 
folk  was  fair  wild  to  be  cheatit,  and  were  for  hangin'  the 
gangers  there  and  then,  Craig  and  Trevor  baith.  Ay,  and 
they  micht  hae  dune  it,  too,  had  the  sodjers  no  been  there ! 

"  But  the  sheriff  gaed  up  and  talkit  to  the  excisemen, 
and  a  wee,  ill-lukin',  hurkled  body,  like  a  dwarf  or  brownie, 
hirpled  up  after  him,  for  a'  the  world  like  a  puddock 
crossin'  the  road  afore  rain. 

"  But  the  plaided  lads  had  ta'en  themsel's  aff  withoot 
ever  a  Guid-day  or  a  Fare-ye-weel !  There  wasna  yin  o' 
them  to  be  seen.  And  aye  the  folk  raged  and  cried  oot, 
some  yae  thing  and  some  anither.  And  some  were  for 
gangin'  on  wi'  the  hangin'  o'  Hairry  Polwart  on  general 
grunds,  as  it  were — because  he  was  a  gypsy,  and  if  he  hadna 

307 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

killed  thae  twa  he  had  dootless  slain  plenty  o'  ithers — or 
at  least  stealed  sheep,  whilk  in  the  e'e  of  the  law  is  the 
same  thing. 

"  Some,  again,  were  keen  for  hangin'  up  the  excisemen 
and  some  the  sheriff.  Yin  or  twa  even  thocht  that  the 
minister  was  at  the  bottom  o'  the  hale  affair,  so  as  to  hae 
something  to  preach  aboot  for  the  next  sax  months — him 
being  dooms  fond  o' '  improvin'  the  occasion,'  as  it  is  caaed. 
And  sae  a  score  or  twa,  but  maistly  Dissenters,  cried  for 
the  minister  to  be  thrown  doon  to  them  in  his  goon  and 
bands.  But,  indeed,  for  the  maist  pairt  the  fowk  didna  ken 
what  they  wantit,  save  and  except  that  they  had  comed 
there  to  see  somebody  hangit,  and  hangit  somebody  be- 
hoved to  be !  Sae  they  were  catchin'  a  messan  yellow  dog 
that  belanged  to  naebody,  but  was  a  kenned  and  notable 
thief,  to  swing  the  puir  beast  in  Saunders  Lennox's  rope, 
when  presently  comes  the  sheriff  to  the  front,  and  the 
bearer  o'  the  sword  o'  justice  cries  for  silence.  Then  the 
sheriff  speaks  again,  and  he  says  how  that  was  a  maist 
happy  and  unlooked-for  termination  to  a  solemn  occasion, 
and  how  it  appeared  that  these  two  gentlemen  of  his 
Majesty's  excise  had,  by  order  of  a  certain  noted  outlaw 
named  Hector  Faa — 

("  Here,"  said  Davie,  breaking  off,  "  there  were  loud 
yells  of  execration.  '  Hang  Hector !'  '  Hang  the  yella 
dowg  !'  and  mony  siclike  speeches.") 

Then  the  narrator  continued  the  speech  of  the  sheriff, 
in  quite  another  voice: 

"  '  These  gentlemen  have  by  order,  as  I  say,  of  this  noted 
outlaw,  been  secreted  and  sequestered  (in  the  common 
tongue,  hidden  away),  though  treated  with  no  indignity, 
till  delivered  by  the  good  offices  of  ]\Ir.  Thomas  Ankers, 
vintner  and  change-house  keeper  at  Tarkirra !' 

" '  Weel  dune,  Grisly  Tam !'  cried  a  voice  at  this  from 
the  crowd.  '  Hang  him — he's  ower  ugly  to  leeve !'  cried 
others. 

308 


THE    HANGING    OF    HARRY    POLWART 

" '  So,'  continued  the  sheriff,  '  though  I  cannot  antici- 
pate judicial  procedure,  there  is  no  manner  of  doubt  that 
the  prisoner  Polwart  has  been  wrongly  condemned,  and 
that  he  will,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  Justice,  shortly  be 
set  at  liberty.  Furthermore,  it  is  the  duty  of  all  good 
burgesses  and  lieges  forthwith  to  disperse  to  their  homes, 
and  the  captain  of  the  soldiers  has  our  commands  to  see 
that  this  is  done  in  the  King's  name.' 

"  And  that,"  said  Davie  Veitch,  "  is  a'  that  I  ken  about 
the  hangin'  that  was  nae  hangin',  and  aboot  the  comin'  to 
life  of  twa  men  that  were  never  deid !" 

"  And  was  there  no  more  ?"  I  asked  him. 

"  Ay,"  he  said,  rubbing  his  shins  tenderly,  "  the  yella 
dowg  bit  me  in  the  leg  when  I  was  tryin'  to  rescue  it  f  rae 
a  violent  death !" 

Davie  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  added,  "  But  the 
puir  thing  meaned  nae  ill.  Ye  see  it  belanged  to  Mick 
McGormiek,  the  sweep,  and  maybes  had  na  been  accus- 
tomed to  kindness,  as  yin  micht  say !" 

We  sat  for  some  time  silent  about  the  dying  tire.  The 
marvel  of  Davie's  tale  was  still  upon  us,  and  we  knew  not 
what  to  say  or  do,  when,  turning  at  a  slight  noise  in  the 
transe,  I  saw  a  figure  I  knew  well  in  the  dusk  by  the  wall. 
It  was  Joyce  Faa,  and  behind  her,  as  it  were,  laying  a  re- 
straining hand  on  her  arm,  stood  Marion  of  the  Isle. 

"  Then  he  is  not  dead,"  said  Joyce.  "  He  was  con-' 
demned  to  death,  and  you  never  told  me,  not  one  of  you 
— you  whom  I  thought  my  friends — not  even  you,  Marion, 
whom  I  have  trusted  with  more  than  my  life !" 

"  Nay  !"  cried  Marion ;  "  I  knew  nothing  whatever  about 
it.    I  heard  not  a  word  till  this  moment !" 

Joyce  went  on  without  heeding  her. 

"But  now  that  he  is  alive  and  free,  my  way  is  clear! 
It  is  my  duty  to  seek  him — to  be  his  wife,  if  he  still  cares  to 
claim  me.    I  will  go  this  very  night !    I  will  bide  no  more 

309 


THE    DARK     0'    THE     MOON 

in  this  place,  where  I  have  been  deceived  and  kept  in  the 
dark !" 

"Joyce,  Joyce!  Not  to-night!"  said  Marion,  trying  to 
calm  her.  "  Let  the  night  pass  first !  To-morrow,  if  you 
will.  But  to-night  he  will  be  still  in  the  prison.  You 
could  not  see  him.  Wait  this  one  night,  and  I  will  go  with 
you.  For,  in  spite  of  all  the  kindness  and  the  love  of  my 
good  kinsfolk,  I  have  not  been  a  whit  happier  here  than 
you !  Wait  till  to-morrow,  Joyce,  and.  Heaven  be  my 
judge,  I  will  accompany  you  and  see  you  through  your 
trial,  whatever  it  may  be  and  however  it  may  come !" 

And,  though  it  be  accounted  a  shame  to  me,  I  must  re- 
cord that  I  was  so  stricken  dumb  by  the  outcome  of  the  tale 
that  I  sat  silent  and  found  not  a  word  to  say,  either  to 
Marion  of  the  Isle  or  to  Joyce  Faa,  whom  I  loved.  I 
ought  furiously  to  have  combated  their  resolutions.  I 
knew  this  well,  but  my  weakness  had  again  come  upon  me, 
and,  as  God  knows  my  heart,  I  could  not. 

Instead  I  took  my  hat  and  staff  and  went  out  to  walk  all 
night  on  the  sands  of  the  Isle,  with  the  westerly  wind  blow- 
ing chill  in  my  face,  and  the  waves  of  Solway  lashing  up 
about  my  feet  in  foam. 


XLI 

ONE    HOUR    OF    LOVE 

YET  I  was  not  to  have  at  least  one  chance  of  an  inter- 
view with  Joyce  Faa  taken  from  me,  here  in  mine 
own  tower  and  with  my  father's  servants  about  me.  That 
had  been  altogether  too  hard  a  fate. 

I  know  that  it  does  not  say  much  for  mine  own  con- 
trivance or  initiative,  that  T  had  not  devised  the  matter 
before.  But  for  some  reason  or  another  that  I  could  not 
fathom  at  the  time,  Marion  would  not  consent  to  favor  me 
in  the  matter,  perchance  considering  me  too  slack  and 
fashionless  in  my  wooing,  as  was  perhaps  the  truth. 

Nevertheless,  I  was  learning,  and  when  Eppie,  accord- 
ing to  her  own  kind  thought  for  me,  managed  to  send 
Marion  on  an  errand  with  Grisel  to  the  house  of  Orraland, 
I  went  boldly  in  by  the  secret  way,  and  knocked  upon  the 
inner  portal  of  the  Aumry  of  Isle  Eathan. 

The  voice  of  Joyce  Faa  bade  me  come  in,  and  as  I  opened 
the  door  I  saw  her  draw  a  shawl  about  her  shoulders 
hastily,  for  she  thought,  mayhap,  that  Eppie  had  been  her 
visitor. 

Moreover,  when  she  saw  me,  she  looked  this  way  and 
that,  even  going  a  step  towards  the  door  of  the  outer  room 
wliich  overlooked  the  sea,  as  if  hoping  to  find  a  way  of  re- 
treat thereby. 

But  instead  she  beckoned  me  without  into  the  sunshine, 
with  the  feeling,  doubtless,  that  it  was  more  fitting  for  me 
to  speak  and  for  her  to  hear  out  there,  with  the  gulls  and 

311 


THE     DAEK     0'     THE     MOON 

terns  making  a  wild  melody  about  our  heads,  and  the  sea 
water  jabbling  with  a  pleasant  sound  beneath  the  rock. 

Further  than  this  Joyce  Faa  used  no  courtesy,  neither 
did  she  invite  me  to  take  one  of  the  wooden  benches  or 
stone  seats  upon  the  outer  balcony.  She  simply  waited 
for  me  to  speak,  to  say  my  say,  and  be  gone.  And  there 
is  no  attitude  of  a  woman  (if  they  only  knew  it  and  were 
able  to  practise  it)  so  hard  to  combat  as  this. 

Of  old,  in  the  Dungeon  of  Buchan,  at  the  pleasant 
Shieling,  she  had  never  seen  me  enter  without  a  smiling 
welcome,  but  now  no  ordinary  courtesy  of  life  or  kindly 
greeting  seemed  possible  between  us  any  more. 

Since  the  previous  night  Joyce  had  taken  off  the  dress 
which  Marion  had  given  her  and  put  on  again  the  old  black 
gown  in  which  she  had  accompanied  me  across  the  Silver 
Flowe  of  Buchan,  endured  the  terrible  thunder-storm  on 
the  heights  of  Bennanbrack,  and  stood  up  to  be  married 
to  Harry  Pol  wart  in  the  Manse  garden  of  Minnigaff. 

I  went  over  close  to  her,  and  all  I  can  say  is  that  she 
did  not  move  or  in  any  way  shrink  from  me.  She  only 
seemed  dead  at  heart,  without  any  answering  consciousness 
of  eye  or  voice  or  gesture. 

"  Joj-ce,'"'  I  said,  "  I  do  not  mean  this  for  an  intrusion 
upon  3^ou,  but  1  think  I  have  some  right  to  be  heard.  Do 
you  refuse  me  that  ?  It  is  the  right  of  every  prisoner  at  the 
bar." 

Still  she  did  not  speak,  but  only  moved  her  hands,  and, 
more  slightly,  her  shoulders,  in  the  French  manner,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  Do  I  refuse  you  ?    Can  I  refuse  you  ?" 

Then,  knowing  tliat  my  time  was  short,  I  began  to  speak 
clearly  and  to  the  purpose. 

"  Joyce,  I  love  you !  I  have  always  loved  you  from  the 
first,  and  1  always  shall  love  you !  Let  us  take  that  for  our 
starting-place." 

I  watched  carefully  the  effect  of  these  words  upon  her. 
I  did  not  take  her  hand.    I  felt  instinctively  that  she  would 

312 


ONE    HOUR    OF    LOVE 

resent  that.  But  I  stood  close  enough  to  note  the  changes 
upon  her  cheek,  and  though  she  turned  her  head  so  far 
away  that  I  could  see  little  more  than  the  tip  of  her  ear 
and  a  part  of  her  neck,  I  could  see  that  these  grew  slowly 
of  a  rosy  red.  It  was  almost  like  a  young  maid's  first  con- 
scious yielding,  but  I  knew  too  well  that  a  maiden's  rose- 
blush  shame  at  hearing  love  spoken  in  her  ear  was  very  far 
indeed  from  being  Joyce  Faa's  mood. 

"  I  cannot  see  why  my  love  has  not  its  rights  as  well  as 
your  word  passed  to  Harry  Polwart,"  I  said.  "  I  love  you, 
Joyce !  I  am  young,  and  have  all  my  life  to  offer  you.  I 
have  other  things  to  offer  also,  that  I  will  not  shame 
either  of  us  by  naming.  For  I  know  that  in  a  cot-house  or 
in  a  stable-loft  I  should  be  happy  with  you — ay,  if  I  had 
not  a  penny  in  the  world — even  if  I  had  to  carry  the  meal- 
poke  for  you  and  beg  our  bread  !" 

It  was  when  I  thus  spoke  of  poverty  together  that  for 
the  first  time  I  saw  some  of  the  old  feeling  come  back  into 
her  eye,  some  of  that  graciousness  and  sweetness  which 
had  drawn  all  my  heart  from  selfish  folly  in  the  long  sum- 
mer days  on  the  hills  of  the  Dungeon. 

Joyce  had  her  hands  clasped  before  her,  and  she  lifted 
them  up  with  a  kind  of  wringing  movement,  the  exceeding 
pain  of  which  I  cannot  express  in  words. 

"  Maxwell !"  she  said,  in  a  moaning  voice  that  had  yet 
something  I  was  glad  to  hear  in  it,  "  if  you  had  truly  loved 
me  you  would  have  spared  me  this !" 

I  was  instantly  at  her  side,  but  before  I  could  reach  her 
she  had  sunk  down  upon  one  of  the  stone  seats  from  which 
there  was  at  all  times  a  view  of  the  sea.  I  bent  down  also, 
half  kneeling  by  her  side,  and,  taking  one  of  her  hands  in 
mine,  looked  into  her  face. 

"  Joyce,"  I  said,  "  listen  to  me.  I  think  it  would  be  best 
for  Harry  Polwart  that  you  should  not  marry  him — " 

Here  she  turned  and  gazed  eagerly  into  my  eyes,  as  if 
to  read  my  thoughts. 

313 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE     MOON 

"  Ay,"  she  said,  with  a  certain  bitter  hardness,  "  show 
me  that,  if  you  can !  How  can  it  be  best  for  the  woman 
on  whom  a  man  depends  for  his  very  being  to  break  her 
word  to  him  ?" 

This  speech  set  me  on  my  mettle. 

"  Well,  first  then,"  I  said,  "  you  do  not  love  him.  You 
love  me — I  know  you  do.  In  promising  yourself  to  him 
you  promised  what  was  not  your  own — but  mine.  For 
you  are  mine!  By  the  right  of  love  I  claim  you,  Joyce, 
and  I  will  not  let  you  go  away  again !" 

She  smiled  now,  sweetly,  most  sweetly,  yet  wistfully 
withal.  She  said  no  word  of  denial.  Nay,  she  lifted  my 
hand  half-way  to  her  lips,  as  if  she  were  about  to  kiss  it, 
and  then  slowly  let  it  drop  again. 

"  You  speak  well,  Maxwell,"  she  said,  not  turning  away 
from  me  any  more,  but  keeping  my  hand  in  both  of  hers, 
and  even  pressing  it  a  little  between  her  palms,  "  nor  will 
I  say  a  word  of  reproach  to  you.  Part  of  what  you  say  is 
true.  I  deny  it  not.  But  I  see  my  duty  to  be  with  this 
poor,  blind  Harry  Polwart,  whom  I  do  not  love,  and  not 
with — with  those  whom  I  do  love." 

I  think  she  was  going  to  say  "  with  you,"  but  at  the 
singular  pronoun  her  courage  failed  her. 

"  He  would  die  in  a  ditch  without  me ;  you — even  if  you 
love  me  as  you  say  (and  I  think  you  do),  would  yet,  after 
a  time,  love  another.  No !  do  not  deny  it,  Maxwell !  I 
know  you  are  not  of  my  degree.  You  despise  my  people. 
You  have  your  lands,  your  duties,  your  riches,  your  learn- 
ing and  books.  And  I — I  am  only  poor  Joyce  Faa,  the 
daughter  of  the  outlaw  of  the  Dungeon,  whom  in  a  few 
months  you  would  forget.  And  as  for  that  other — whom  I 
do  not  love — in  the  hour  when  the  hand  of  God  struck 
him  down,  it  was  laid  on  my  heart  to  live  only  for  him, 
who,  in  trying  to  serve  us  two,  had  been  shut  out  at 
once  from  the  light  of  the  sun  and  the  faces  of  men  and 
women !" 

314 


ONE   HOUE    OF    LOVE 

"But,  dear  Joyce,"  I  said,  "consider  that  it  is  in  my 
power  to  place  Harry  Pol  wart  beyond  reach  of  want — a^ 
good  home  on  my  father's  lands,  security  and  comfort  all 
his  life.  It  shall  be  no  sad  lot,  I  warrant  you  that.  He 
shall  play  reels  and  strathspeys  at  all  the  weddings  and 
christenings.  He  shall  build  the  haycoles  and  thresh  the 
corn.  He  shall  be  first  at  the  harvest-home  and  last  at 
the  kirns  when  the  granary  is  cleared  for  dancings  and  the 
good  Scots  ale  goes  round." 

But  even  when  my  tongue  was  drawing  the  picture  I 
knew  how  futile  were  my  words.  It  was  sadly,  yet  a  little 
scornfully,  that  she  answered  this  time. 

"  Ah,  Maxwell,  it  is  little  you  know  of  the  hill-gypsy,  or 
you  would  never  speak  of  Harry  Polwart  being  a  pensioner 
at  any  man's  gate — least  of  all  at  yours.  For,  hear  ye. 
Maxwell,  I  have  been  plain  with  him,  and  he  knows  that 
which — I  have  never  told  even  to  you !" 

"  That  you  love  me,  Joyce  ?" 

1  was  on  both  my  knees  now  before  her  as  she  sat  on 
the  stone  seat.  How  I  came  there  I  know  not,  unless  it 
were  for  conveniency  of  putting  my  arms  about  her,  which 
I  certainly  had  somehow  accomplished. 

"That — I — love — you!    Yes!    I  do  love  you!" 

She  spoke  the  words  slowly,  as  if  each  one  had  to  pass 
a  barrier  ere  it  was  permitted  to  reach  the  outer  air.  But 
she  turned  to  me  as  she  spoke  also,  and,  with  a  quick  sob, 
threw  her  arms  about  my  neck  and  sank  her  face  against 
mine,  pressing  it  close  and  closer. 

I  remember  little  definitely  or  consecutively  about  the 
time  that  followed,  and  I  would  not  write  about  it  if  I 
could.  I  recall,  though,  the  warm  wetness  of  her  cheek, 
the  salt  tears  on  my  lips  as  I  kissed  her  and  she  kissed  me. 
Perhaps  I  wept  also.  I  cannot  tell.  I  only  know  that 
never  can  I  see  a  bright  October  day,  with  the  wind  from 
the  north  making  the  sea  sapphire  blue  and  sparkling,  but 
I  think  of  that  cave  of  the  Aumry,  and  Joyce  Faa  for  a 

315 


THE    DARK    0'     THE    MOON 

thousand  moments  all  too  swift  giving  herself  up  to  love 
and  me. 

God  forgive  me !  Before  that  day  I  might  have  done  as 
she  said,  and  been  content  without  her — yes,  even  when  I 
entered  through  the  passage  and  tapped  at  that  inner 
door.  But  after  that  breaking  down  of  the  barriers  I  was 
hers  forever.  Nor  have  I  to  this  present  altered  in  jot 
or  tittle  of  all  that  I  vowed  to  her  then. 

After  a  while — how  long  I  knew  not  nor  eared — quite 
suddenly  she  withdrew  herself  from  me  and  stood  up, 
putting  up  her  hair  that  had  fallen  down,  and  looking  out 
to  sea  with  wet,  delicious  eyes. 

I  watched  her  with  a  new  pride  and  joy.  For  it 
was  now  for  the  first  time  that  I  knew  certainly  how  that 
glorious  creature  loved  me.  And  that  she  was  indeed  a 
glorious  creature  all  might  see.  The  troubles  of  these  later 
days  had,  if  possible,  developed  still  more  fully  the  superb 
outlines  of  her  form.  Ever  erect  as  a  hill-pine,  she  had 
grown  more  gracious  and  rounded  in  outline,  without 
losing  in  the  least  the  old  lissom  alertness  of  her  carriage, 
as  of  some  wild  thing  unaccustomed  to  restraints  and  the 
dwellings  of  men.  Now,  when  she  had  heaped  her  hair 
together  in  its  usual  dark  and  tempestuous  masses,  and 
tied  the  silken  snood  about  it — a  broad  scarlet  ribbon  which 
I  had  given  her — she  turned  again  to  me,  very  calm  and 
pale. 

"  Dear,"  she  said,  "  this  is  noways  worthy  of  you  and 
me.  We  forgot  ourselves.  The  blame  is  mine  wholly,  for 
the  sacrifice  and  the  compulsion  must  be  mine.  But  now, 
Maxwell,  you  and  I  will  be  strong  from  this  time  forth. 
And  God,  who  knows  all,  will  not  visit  the  weakness  of 
one  upon  us  both  !" 

I  did  not  speak,  for  T  read  the  unswerving  purpose  in 
her  face,  and,  though  my  heart  was  black  and  heavy,  I 
could  not  help  being  thankful,  too,  that  He  in  whose  hands 
are  the  hearts  of  men  and  women,  had  given  me  to  know 

31G 


ONE    HOUK    OF    LOVE 

the  greatness  of  this  woman's  heart — greater,  to  my  think- 
ing, in  its  weakness  even  than  in  its  strength. 

She  reached  me  both  her  hands,  and  stood  regarding  me, 
eye  to  eye. 

"  No,"  she  added,  "  this  is  no  wrong  to  any  that  we  have 
done.  For  God  knew  before  how  I  loved  you,  and  that 
other  knew  also  when  he  and  I  first  made  the  bargain  to- 
gether to  save  your  life.  But  the  moment  was  ours  and  the 
love.  It  shall  abide  with  me  in  many  a  darksome  night 
and  horrible  place.  For  now  I  must  take  up  the  burden 
that  has  been  laid  upon  me.  I  go  to  Harry  Polwart,  that 
I  may  be  his  so  long  as  he  has  need  of  me.  Do  not  come 
with  me.  As  you  love  me  do  not  follow  me.  Let  us  part 
here — where  for  a  moment  I  forgot,  where  for  one  hour 
I  was  happy  without  thought.  Surely  God  is  not  angry 
when  the  happiness  of  a  life  had  to  be  put  into  a  day  ?" 

She  drew  me  towards  her  with  both  hands,  kissed  me 
gently  on  either  cheek  in  her  foreign  fashion,  and  then, 
with  a  sweet  and  tender  solemnity,  lifted  up  her  lips  for 
me  to  kiss  them. 

T  did  so.  There  was  the  rustle  of  a  dress,  the  shutting 
of  a  door,  and  Joyce  Faa  was  gone.  I  was  left  alone  in 
the  Aumry,  under  the  wide  useless  brightness  of  the  sky, 
with  the  sunlit  Solway  clattering  emptily  without  upon  the 
rocks  beneath  the  place  of  our  first  and  last  love-tryst. 


XLII 
MENTIONJ]D    IN    DESPATCHES 

THAT  "  the  blood  of  the  martyrs  is  the  seed  of  the 
church  j'  is  true  also  of  smaller  causes,  and  humble 
folk  who  would  never  aspire  to  the  honorable  designation 
of  the  Faithful  Slain. 

And  of  this  the  camp  in  the  Duchrae  Bank  Wood  was 
a  proof.  The  rough-riding  squadrons  of  Colonel  Tereg- 
gles,  the  domiciliary  visitations  of  his  fellow-colonel  the 
Galloway  laird,  the  erratic  descents  and  perquisitions  of 
General  Fitzgeorge  (who  dragged  at  his  heels  a  very 
reluctant  aide,  in  the  person  of  Captain  Austin  Treden- 
nis),  had  issued  in  this — that  the  forces  of  the  Levellers 
had  collected  at  last  and  intrenched  themselves  behind 
ordered  lines  of  trenches  and  bastion,  scarp  and  counter- 
scarp. 

Thrice  had  detachments  of  Colonel  Collinson's  force  been 
put  to  complete  rout  by  surprise  parties  descending  upon 
them  unexpectedly — once  from  the  rough  hill-sides  of  the 
Bennan,  as  the  troopers  straggled  through  the  marshy  nar- 
rows on  their  way  up  to  the  valley  of  the  Ken;  again  at 
the  fords  of  the  Dee,  where  out  of  a  wood  arose  suddenly 
a  hundred  men,  armed  with  pike  and  musket,  and  with 
surprising  suddenness  sent  to  the  rightabout  two  com- 
panies of  a  marching  militia  regiment  hastily  called  up 
from  the  neighboring  shire  of  Dumfries.  Lastly,  and  from 
General  Fitzgeorgc's  point  of  view  most  alarming  of  all, 
the  sacred  person  of  the  commander-in-chief  had  been  in 

318 


MENTIONED    IN    DESPATCHES 

manifest  danger.  Indeed,  he  had  only  been  saved  by  the 
reckless  gallantry  or  his  aide-de-camp,  Captain  Tredennis, 
of  Ligonier's  Horse,  who,  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  rode 
within  a  few  paces  of  the  rebel  lines  and  dared  them 
to  fire  upon  him.  For  some  reason,  not  clearly  under- 
stood at  the  moment,  they  did  not  fire,  but  stood  with 
grounded  arms  till  the  captain  had  brought  his  general 
off  the  ground  without  a  scratch  upon  his  semi-royal 
body. 

Naturally  after  these  oecurrents  many  were  the  criti- 
cisms and  ol)serves  made  upon  the  weakness  of  the  govern- 
ment. Frantic  were  the  appeals  for  additional  forces,  met 
by  the  usual  polite  indifference  and  unbelief  in  high 
quarters,  while  at  the  local  headquarters  reigned  a  com- 
pleteness of  disorganization  which  ought  to  have  filled 
with  joyful  gratification  the  heart  of  the  late  Special  Com- 
missioner, Captain  Tredennis. 

But  as  this  is  a  private,  not  a  public,  history,  we  can 
take  little  and  brief  account  with  these  petty  "  ruffles " 
and  "  rencontres  "  as  they  are  slightingly  described  in  the 
despatches  of  the  commander-in-chief. 

But  to  his  royal  relative  (putative)  General  Fitzgeorge 
wrote  in  other  fashion,  entirely  abjuring  the  classic  turn 
of  phrase  which  distinguish  the  oflicial  communications 
passing  under  the  unenthusiastic  eye  of  his  aide. 

"  Dr.  Cozin  George, — Yr  note  to  hand  with  the  orders. 
This  is  a  damnble  country  and  verry  poore.  No  wimmen 
to  speak  of,  and  these  either  pert  minkses  or  blowzie  dames. 
If  you  do  not  recall  me  soon,  I  must  rezine  and  go  to  Bath 
to  drink  the  waters.  I  heer  Lady  Bettie  Trippit  is  there. 
Ther  is  a  felow  heer,  Capt.  Austane  Tredenis,  of 
Liegonr's  Hoars,  mutch  in  my  way.  Have  him  made  a 
Col.  or  Depty.-Governr.,  or  something  els,  and  sent  to 
amerika  or  some  Islande,  very  desolate.  My  humble  ser- 
vice to  yr.  Eoyl.  Highnss.     I  hope  the  Dutchss  and  her 

319 


THE     DAEK     0'     THE     MOON 

Majty  are  better  Friends.     My  respect  to  the  former — as 
this  is  a  private  letter. 

"  Yr.  lovg.  humble  Servt.  and  Cozin, 

"  G.    FiTZGEORGE, 

"P.S. — Dr.  George, — I  am  verry  poor,  or  shall  be  when 
I  reach  anny  place  wher  I  can  spend  Monny,  as  Bath, 
where  Lady  Bettie  is. — G.  F/' 

That  this  kindly  though  unofficial  mention  in  de- 
spatches did  not  bear  immediate  fruit  is  owing  to  the  fact 
that  the  august  personage  to  whom  it  was  addressed  was 
temporarily  absent  on  a  visit  to  his  Continental  dominions 
— so  that,  in  the  meanwhile,  and  pending  his  return,  Aus- 
tin Tredennis  still  remained  '*  mutch  in  the  way  "  of  the 
relative  of  kings. 

Nevertheless,  it  could  not  be  denied  that  he  had  greatly 
distinguished  himself.  His  courage  had  been  proved 
on  the  occasion  of  his  bringing  his  superior  officer  out  of 
imminent  peril  (as  mentioned  in  General  Fitzgeorge's 
,  public  despatches).  He  it  was  who  held  the  candle 
straight  between  the  Gallic  slackness  of  the  commander- 
in-chief,  who  cared  only  for  Bath,  "  where  Lady  Bettie 
is,"  and  the  domineering  landlordism  of  Colonels  Gunter 
and  Collinson. 

But  what  the  motives  were  which  caused  him  to  offer 
his  services  as  a  spy  in  the  enemy's  country  remained  a 
secret  to  all  save  Captain  Tredennis  himself.  He  found 
himself  at  last  on  the  high  road  to  promotion — and,  indeed, 
nearer  to  it  than  he  had  any  conception  of,  not  having 
seen  a  certain  letter  to  "  Dr.  Cozin  George "  which  we 
have  had  the  advantage  of  perusing.  Yet,  in  spite  of  his 
very  eligible  position  as  officer  in  personal  attendance  upon 
the  commander,  forgetful  of  the  excellent  dinners  at 
headquarters  (which  were  always  fixed  where  the  best  game 
and  wine  were  to  be  had) — in  spite  of  these  and  other  ad- 
vantages too  numerous  to  mention,  Austin  Tredennis  of- 

320 


MENTIONED    IN    DESPATCHES 

fered  himself  as  a  volunteer  spy,  to  adventure  into  the 
rough  country  about  the  embouchure  of  the  Dee  and  the 
Ken,  where  the  camp  of  the  rebels  was  situated. 

"  I  cannot  spare  you,"  said  the  general,  at  first.  "  Blood 
me !  but  I  decline  to  be  left  alone  with  a  pack  of  Galloway 
lairds,  who  eat  with  their  knives  like  ploughboys,  or 
deuced  old  moneygrubbers  and  land-thieves  like  Kirkham 
and  Gunter!  You  are  a  rough  fellow,  Tredennis,  but 
George  Fitzgeorge  owes  no  grudges.  In  fact,  you  were 
perfectly  right.  But,  indeed,  I  cannot  afford  to  let  you 
go,  for  you  play  a  devilish  good  hand  at  piquet.  So  don't 
ask  me,  my  dear  sir.    I  pray  you  don't  ask  me  again !" 

But  Austin  Tredennis  did  ask  again,  pointing  out 
with  much  cogent  argument  the  advantage  of  ending  this 
foolish  strife  expeditiously  and,  if  possible,  without  shed- 
ding of  blood. 

"  There  is  no  honor  to  be  gained — that  is,  for  a  general 
of  your  world-wide  reputation"  (Oh,  Captain  Austin!) 
"by  riding  down  these  poor  ploughmen  and  shepherds. 
No  honor,  save  in  getting  the  whole  thing  settled  out  of 
hand,  and  that  these  landlords  will  put  off  as  long  as  pos- 
sible, so  as  to  have  as  many  as  possible  sent  out  of  the 
country." 

"  D — n  them !"  exclaimed  General  Fitzgeorge,  quite 
in  the  Hanoverian  manner  of  his  august  relative. 

"  Well,  consider,"  the  j\Iacchiavellian  aide  went  on  with 
his  subtlest  smile,  "  it  must  be  dull  enough  here  for  you — 
a  man  of  5'our  fine  tastes — when  you  ought  to  be  at — " 

"  Bath !  ah,  yes — yes,  so  it  is,  so  it  is — deuced  dull !" 
murmured  the  general,  half-closing  his  eyes,  and  seeing, 
doubtless,  a  vision  of  the  Pump  Room  and  other  things 
yet  more  pleasant  in  the  City  of  the  Waters. 

"  You  will  have  all  the  credit  if  I  succeed,"  continued 
Austin,  "  I,  and  I  only,  will  be  blamed  in  case  of  failure — " 

"Very  proper — very  proper!"  said  the  son  of  kings, 
quite  audibly. 

21  331 


THE     DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

"And  you  will  permit  me  to  say,  sir,"  said  Austin, 
"  that  with  your  success  here  will  doubtless  come  also  your 
rank  as  a  Eoyal  Duke,  which  has  been  shamefully  delayed, 
and  a  more  desirable  post  than  the  command  of  his 
Majesty's  forces  in  these  barren  and  remote  parts  of  his 
dominions." 

"  Yes,  yes !  good  fellow,  wise  man  !"  murmured  General 
Fitzgeorge,  nodding  approvingly,  and  helping  himself  to  a 
sixth  glass  of  wine,  without  remembering  to  offer  any  to 
Austin.  "  Admirable  way  of  putting  things !  Wish  I  had 
it !    Never  could — blood  me !    None  of  our  family  can !" 

So,  leaving  his  commander-in-chief  to  discuss  the  re- 
mainder of  the  second  bottle  of  claret,  Austin  departed, 
much  elated  by  the  permission  to  run  his  neck  into  the 
most  absolute  and  terrible  danger.  The  distinguished  field- 
officer  lay  back  in  his  chair,  and  as  he  slowly  tilted  the 
silver  goblet,  from  which  he  always  drank  when  on  service 
(a  baptismal  present  from  his  late  royal  godfather,  and 
father),  he  cast  up  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling  and  meditated. 

"  Ah !"  he  said,  "  it  will  do  no  harm,  in  any  case.  It 
is  a  quicker  way  than  promotion,  if  the  fellow  fail.  I  shall 
be  able  to  console  myself  in  this  dull  dog-hole  without  any 
more  of  his  Puritanic  interference,  blood  him !  And  if  he 
should  happen  to  succeed — why,  then  I  shall  get  away  to 
Bath.  Ha !  I  stand  to  win  either  way.  Never  thought  of 
that  before — never  thought  of  that — clever  fellow,  George, 
deucedly  clever  fellow !" 

Austin  Tredennis  had  been  a  spy  before.  In  the  Nether- 
lands he  had  passed  from  army  to  army  more  than  once, 
and  knew  that  intoxication  of  excitement  when  a  single 
false  step  may  bring  you  before  a  firing-party,  or  a  word 
too  much  or  too  little  deliver  you  to  the  provost-marshal 
with  his  rope. 

It  cannot,  therefore,  be  any  derogation  from  the  courage 
of  the  captain  of  horse  if  we  confess  at  once  (from  in- 

323 


MENTIONED    IN    DESPATCHES 

formation  received)  that  other  thoughts  were  stirring  in 
his  heart  than  desire  to  taste  danger  in  full  draught  un- 
diluted, or  even  the  hope  of  immediate  promotion. 

The  brain  of  the  soldier  lay  within  its  casement — large, 
collected,  and  cool — working  out  problems,  and  choosing 
the  best  means  of  attaining  ends,  as  unimpassionedly  as  it 
played  his  hands  at  piquet  with  his  superior  officer — when 
he  won  or  lost,  not  according  to  the  cards,  but  according 
as  he  wished  to  influence  the  mood  of  his  opponent. 

So  far  the  head ;  but  the  heart — ah !  that  was  another 
matter.  The  heart  of  Austin  Tredennis  was  a  seething 
turmoil,  of  which  no  fleck  or  spray  was  suffered  to  reach 
the  calm,  rather  grim  features,  or  to  twitch  the  mouth  set 
so  sternly  under  the  great  mustache.  For,  to  be  brief,  the 
captain  of  horse  was  in  love !  More,  he  was  piqued,  or 
rather,  angered — with  a  feeling  as  much  stronger  than 
pique  as  eau-de-vie  is  stronger  than  water.  But  the  word 
"  pique  "  must  be  used,  because  it  alone  expresses  the  line 
of  his  feeling,  though  by  no  means  the  distance  he  had 
travelled  along  that  line. 

Since  the  night  when  Marion  had  first  flouted  him,  and 
tossed  him  aside  like  a  finger-worn  gauntlet,  while  yet 
utterly  in  his  power  within  the  prison  at  Kirkcudbright,  he 
had  never  slept  soundly,  save  with  the  sleep  of  supreme 
fatigue.  He  did  professionally  the  work  of  an  entire  staff, 
and  earned  his  reward  by  sleeping  for  three  or  four  hours 
a  deep  and  dreamless  sleep.  From  this  he  woke  to  the 
angry  torture  of  the  man  who  falls  deeply  in  love  late  in 
life,  yet  who  is  batfled,  angered,  flouted,  crossed  at  once  by 
circumstances  and  by  the  object  of  his  love. 

"  Now  I  will  show  her !"  said  Austin,  twisting  the  broad 
flank  of  his  mustache  into  his  mouth,  and  biting  savagely 
upon  it.    "  Now — at  last !" 

He  strode  away  to  his  solitary  quarters  and  summoned 
his  soldier-servant,  a  wiry  fellow  who  had  been  with  him 
for  many  years  and  in  various  climes. 

323 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE     MOON 

"  Beech,"  he  said,  "  I  am  on  the  old  game  again.  Get  me 
the  Yorkshire  toggeries — the  drover  suit  with  the  big 
buttons." 

Beech — a  tall,  spare,  middle-aged  man,  with  a  marvel- 
lously lined  countenance  and  a  huge  nose,  down  the  side 
of  which  he  looked  at  his  master  as  if  along  a  levelled 
musket — stood  still  in  astonishment,  forgetting  even  to 
salute. 

"  The  old  game,  sir  ?"  he  said.  "  Surely  that's  for 
younger  men,  and,  if  you  will  excuse  me,  sir,  for  men  of 
lighter  build  and  figure  than  you  be !" 

"  General's  orders.  Beech,"  said  Austin,  curtly.  "  But- 
ton me  on  the  leggings." 

The  white  moleskin  leggings  aforesaid,  rough  and 
weather-beaten,  were  worn  over  an  old  pair  of  cavalry 
boots.  To  these  were  added  blue  pilot-cloth  small-clo'thes, 
roomy  as  a  house  even  for  Austin's  honorable  girth,  a 
buff  waistcoat  of  a  twilled  material,  with  immense  pockets 
flapped  and  ornamented  with  immense  steel  buttons,  a 
short  coat  of  the  same  stuff  as  the  small-clothes,  splashed 
and  frayed,  a  flapped  black  hat  caught  up  in  the  front  with 
one  of  the  steel  waistcoat  buttons.  A  weather-worn  gray 
cloak  of  a  material  like  frieze  to  lay  across  his  pony's  back 
completed  the  equipment  of  Mr.  Job  Brown,  Yorkshire 
drover  and  cattle-dealer,  who  stood  in  front  of  the  camp 
mirror  of  the  late  Captain  Austin  Tredennis,  of  Ligonier's 
Horse,  disappeared.  Austin  groaned  as  he  ordered  Beech 
with  a  pair  of  scissors  to  sheer  away  the  solid  magnificence 
of  his  mustaches  as  close  to  the  skin  as  steel  would  cut. 
But  at  that  moment  Austin  was  in  a  mood  for  the  greatest' 
sacrifices. 

"  Any  orders,  sir  ?"  Beech  whispered  in  the  dark  of  the 
archway  of  Austin's  lodgings,  when,  having  settled  his 
cloak  and  seen  to  his  pistols,  he  held  the  stirrup  for  his 
master  to  mount  the  stout  little  pony  which  was  to  carry 
the  fortunes  of  the  spy-lover. 

.334 


MENTIONED    IN    DESPATCHES 

"None,"  said  Tredennis,  "except  to  keep  your  mouth 
shut." 

And  so,  with  a  heart  quieter  and  more  satisfied  than  it 
had  been  for  many  months,  Austin  Tredennis  went  out 
into  the  outer  dark,  and  rode  away  northward  with  the 
good-night  bugle  call  of  his  troopers  ringing  in  his  ears  as 
an  unconscious  godspeed  to  their  commander. 


XLIII 
CATTLE-DEALER    AND    SPY 

THEHE  is  a  ford  across  the  Lane  of  Grenoeh,  near 
where  the  clear  brown  stream  detaches  itself  from  the 
narrows  of  the  loch,  and  a  full  mile  before  it  unites  its 
slow-moving  lily-fringed  stream  with  the  Black  Water  o' 
Dee  rushing  from  its  granite  moorlands.  The  Lane  of 
Grenoeh  seemed  to  that  comfortable  English  drover,  Mr. 
Job  Brown,  like  a  bit  of  Warwickshire  let  into  the  moory, 
hoggish  desolations  of  Galloway.  But  even  as  he  lifted 
his  eyes  from  the  lily-pools  where  the  broad  leaves  were  al- 
ready browning  and  turning  up  at  the  edges,  lo  !  there  above 
him,  peeping  through  the  russet  heather  of  a  Scots  Octo- 
ber, was  a  bowlder  of  the  native  rock  of  the  province, 
lichened  and  water-worn,  of  which  the  poet  sings — 

"  Auld  Granny  Granite  girnin'  wi'  her  gray  teeth." 

He  made  a  tall,  handsome  cattle-dealer,  this  Yorkshire- 
man;  none  so  hearty  or  willing  at  a  bargain  had  been  seen 
among  the  farmers  of  the  straths  for  many  a  day.  Wher- 
ever he  Avent  ]\Ir.  Job  Brown  left  behind  him  a  trail  of 
smiling  faces  and  drained  dram-glasses.  It  is  true  that 
when  Lorimer  of  the  Boreland,  came  to  think  it  over 
afterwards,  he  could  not  remember  that  much  actual  busi- 
ness had  been  done.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Brown 
had  looked  at  everything,  and  "  When  I  return  from  Ire- 
land," he  had  said — "  ha,  ha  !  then  we  will  see  if  you 

32  G 


CATTLE-DEALER   AND    SPY 

Galloway  lads  can  beat  the  Paddies  at  a  drink  or  a  bar- 
gain!" 

Good-wifely  smiles  acknowledged  Mr.  Brown's  Judicious 
praise  of  the  dropped  scones  or  the  poultry.  Mutton-hams 
like  those  of  Mistress  Lorimer  had  never  been  seen  in 
Yorkshire.  \^es,  he  was  a  bachelor.  It  was  his  misfort- 
une, but  he  would  settle  in  Galloway  gladly  if  only  Mis- 
tress Hislop,  of  Barnboard,  would  look  out  a  suitable  part- 
ner in  life  for  him.  He  was  a  shy  man.  She  was  doubtless 
a  better  judge  of  good  wives  than  he. 

Sentiment  such  as  this  in  the  mouth  of  a  well-looking, 
well-to-do,  unmarried  man,  spoken,  moreover,  to  the 
mother  of  six,  all  untochered  and  marriageable  lasses, 
creates  an  impression  something  more  than  favorable. 

At  the  little  moorland  public-house  of  Clachanpluck 
Mr.  Job  Brown  left  his  beast,  to  be  sent  back  that  same 
night  to  Kirkcudbright,  duly  consigned  to  the  care  of  one 
Daniel  Beech,  at  Mistress  Davert's,  in  the  Back  Row.  Mr. 
Job  was  going  into  the  hill-districts  of  Kells  and  Minni- 
gaff  to  buy  black-faced  sheep  for  Carlisle  Tryst,  and  the 
roads,  or  rather,  the  broad  heathery  breast  of  the  fell  ex- 
tending mile  after  mile,  and  varied  only  by  bottomless 
loch,  green,  treacherous,  shaking  bog,  and  deep,  purple- 
black  moss-hag,  was  not  exactly  the  country  most  suitable 
for  an  English-bred  beast. 

In  fine,  alone  and  on  foot,  Mr.  Job  Brown  crossed  the 
Crae  stepping-stones  just  where  you  will  find  them  to 
this  day,  as  I  tell  you,  at  the  shallow  place  a  furlong  or 
two  northward  along  the  road  from  the  Duchrae  Loaning. 

What  Mr.  Brown  was  doing  there  was  not  at  first  very 
clear.  For  the  road  to  the  brig-end  of  Dee  Water  (where 
the  great  fight  of  other  days  had  been  fought)  did  not 
then  pass  ])y  the  water-side  as  now  it  does,  but  over  the 
moor  by  Parkhill  to  the  Folds — where,  indeed,  you  may  yet 
trace  it  with  pleasure  to  yourself  any  idle  summer  after- 
noon by  its  velvety  turf,  greener  at  the  sides,  along  which 

327 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

the  bairns,  with  their  bare  feet,  trotted  to  school,  and 
rougher  with  corn-cockle  and  hard-head  in  the  grooved 
mid-track,  where  from  generation  to  generation  the  pack- 
horses  followed  each  other  in  a  long  swaying  line. 

But  without  obvious  cause  Job  Brown  had  forsaken  the 
main  road  when  it  left  the  loch  side,  and  continued  his 
journey  by  the  rough  foot-path,  now  soft,  now  perilous, 
by  which  the  country-folk  were  wont  to  pass  up  the  glen 
to  the  ford  and  thence  to  the  hill-farms  of  Slogarie,  Airie, 
and  the  two  Craes — Upper  and  Nether. 

But  at  this  point  we  may  as  well  drop  Mr.  "  Job  Brown," 
drover  and  cattle-dealer  from  Yorkshire,  and  say  that  with 
eyes  keen  and  trained  to  the  closest  observation,  Captain 
Austin  Tredennis,  in  the  disguise  which  has  been  already 
described,  strode  circumspectly  across  the  stepping-stones, 
paused  a  moment  on  the  huge  central  block,  and  then  made 
his  way  up  the  hill  by  a  path-way  distinctly  marked 
through  a  tangle  of  heath  and  bog-myrtle  to  the  farm-town 
of  Upper  Crae,  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  which  looks  out 
towards  the  north. 

The  night  of  late  October  was  closing  rapidly  in.  The 
sun  was  already  behind  the  Airie  Hill.  The  country 
was  unknown,  destitute  of  passable  roads — perilous,  too, 
for  the  rebel  lines  were  now  very  near.  The  scouts  of  the 
Levellers  were  everywhere,  and  each  moment  as  he  strode 
forward,  his  bundle  swung  over  his  shoulder  on  the  crook 
of  his  stafE,  Austin  Tredennis  expected  to  find  himself 
challenged. 

He  had  waited  two  days  at  Clachanpluck,  entertaining 
all  and  sundry  at  the  village  inn,  knowing  well  that  this 
was  the  safest  introduction  he  could  have  when  he  betook 
himself  to  the  more  dangerous  neighborhood  of  the  Level- 
lers— or,  greatest  peril  of  all,  endeavored  to  penetrate 
their  camp  on  the  strongly  fortified  peninsula  opposite  the 
Hollan  Isle. 

It  was,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  by  simple  instinct  that 
328 


CATTLE-DEALER   AND    SPY 

Austin  sought  for  Marion  in  the  camp  of  the  Levellers. 
She  was  not  at  her  home;  of  that  he  was  confident, 
though  had  he  known  of  the  existence  of  the  Aumry,  on 
Isle  Eathan,  he  might  not  have  been  so  well  assured.  He 
was  certain  that  so  bold  and  determined  a  leader  would 
go  back  to  her  followers,  when  at  last  they  were  making  a 
stand  in  the  open  against  the  forces  brought  against  them. 
The  premises  of  the  captain  of  horse  were  not  quite 
correct.  Nevertheless,  he  argued  with  judgment,  and  his 
conclusion  that  Marion  must  be  looked  for  in  the  camp  of 
the  Levellers  had  much  more  probability  than  most  purely 
speculative  conclusions. 

At  that  very  moment  when  Austin  Tredennis  was  taking 
the  Grenoch  stepping-stones  in  his  stride,  and  driving  the 
dew  from  the  bog-myrtle  with  his  riding-boots,  one  Cap- 
tain Dick  of  the  Isle  was  visiting  posts  and  arranging 
defences  not  more  than  a  scant  Scots  mile  to  the  north- 
ward. 

It  was  Austin  Tredennis's  plan  to  introduce  himself  at 
the  farm  of  Crae,  if  possible,  get  a  night's  lodging  there, 
and  on  the  morrow,  on  pretext  of  seeing  the  owner's  flocks 
and  herds,  obtain  a  bird's-eye  prospect  of  the  fortified  camp 
in  the  Duchrae  Wood,  and,  if  possible,  hear  some  tidings 
of  his  sometime  prisoner  in  Maclellan's  Wark. 

Tredennis  strode  up  to  the  door  of  the  little  thatched 
farm-house  on  the  hill.  His  arrival  was,  of  course,  heralded 
by  half  a  dozen  clamorous  collie  dogs,  which  mounted 
themselves  upon  cairns  of  stones  gathered  off  the  fields, 
and  appeared  from  barn  and  stable  open-mouthed  and 
voluble  of  warnings. 

He  had  hardly  time  to  knock  when  Mistress  MacCor- 
mick,  wife  of  Anton,  farmer  and  indweller  in  Crae,  opened 
the  door,  and,  with  an  air  of  remarkable  heartiness,  bade 
him  enter. 

"  Ye'll  be  the  Englishman  frae  the  Clachan,  nae  doot  ?" 
said  the  lady,  a  tall,  middle-aged,  capable-looking  person, 

329 


THE    DAKK     0'    THE    MOON 

with  heavy  black  eyebrows,  and  a  habit  of  swooping  about 
the  house  from  side  to  side  as  if  she  had  been  unexpectedly 
shut  up  there  by  accident,  as  a  swallow  might  in  a  church. 

Austin  intimated  that  he  was  indeed  the  person  referred 
to,  whereupon  the  lady  of  the  house  ushered  him  in  with- 
out further  catechism  to  a  comfortable  house-place,  where 
a  couple  of  men  were  sitting.  One  was  a  little,  gray-haired 
man,  with  bent  back  and  a  rosy  face — Anton  MacCormick 
himself — a  shrewd  man  at  a  bargain  at  kirk  yett  or  town 
market-place,  but,  for  all  his  chirpy  good-humor,  held  in 
the  direst  servitude  by  his  wife.  Among  other  peculiari- 
ties this  lady  had  an  inordinate  passion  for  cleanli- 
ness, and  was  perpetually  scrubbing  and  polishing  some 
portion  of  her  domain.  Sometimes  the  kitchen  would  be 
in  the  act  of  receiving  attention,  in  which  case  worthy 
Anton  was  known  to  take  his  dinner  frugally  upon  the 
doorstep,  eating  out  of  a  platter  that  was  handed  to  him 
from  within,  like  a  beggar  at  a  rich  man's  gate. 

At  other  times  the  bedroom  of  the  pair  would  be  under 
vows  of  purification,  when  the  lady  slept  alone  on  a  shake- 
down in  front  of  the  kitchen  fire,  while  poor  Anton  (on 
the  plea  that  he  would  most  likely  set  either  himself  or  the 
house  on  fire)  was  sent  to  make  what  shift  he  could  in  the 
stable-loft  with  the  serving-man. 

On  this  occasion,  however,  it  happened  that  the  lady 
was  in  high  good-humor,  and  save  that  she  invited  Tre- 
dennis's  attention  rather  abruptly  to  a  wet  rag  which  she 
kept  behind  the  door  for  foot-cleansing  purposes,  she  made 
no  objection  to  his  staying  the  night  in  her  house. 

The  master  of  the  house,  however,  was  profuse  of 
hospitalities. 

"  Ye  mind  me,"  he  said,  rising  from  his  seat,  and  hold- 
ing out  his  hand.  "  I  was  wi'  Geordie  Moatt  and  Andrew 
Tjowden,  free  Drumlane,  at  the  change-house  o'  Clachan- 
pluck  the  nicht  before  yestreen.  And  little  did  I  think 
when  ye  sang  us  your  braw  English  sangs,  that  ye  wad  be 

330 


CATTLE-DEALER   AND    SPY 

sittin'  at  my  ain  fireside  before  the  mune  was  twa  days 
aulder !" 

"  It's  no  muckle  ye  sliall  get  to  pour  doon  your  tlirapples 
here,"  said  Mistress  MacCormicl<,  malting  a  swoop  upon 
the  dresser,  and  locking  the  lower  compartment.  "  Anton 
cam'  singing  up  the  loan,  and  even  answered  me  back 
when  I  reproved  him — answered  back  to  his  married  wife ! 
What  think  ye  o'  that.  Silver  Sand  ?" 

The  second  man  at  the  table  had  never  taken  his  dark, 
twinkling  eyes  off  the  new-comer,  but  now  he  turned 
courteously  towards  his  hostess. 

"  I  think,"  said  Silver  Sand,  smiling,  "  that  your  hus- 
band's conduct  was  most  unseemly,  and  altogether  inex- 
cusable." 

"  Ah !  but,  Silver  Sand,"  cried  the  master  of  the  house, 
"  it  is  easy  for  you  to  speak,  wi'  nae  wife  to  say  '  Where 
goest  thou  ?'  or  '  Whither  comest  thou  ?'  Weel  may  ye 
side  wi'  the  weemen  folk!  But  gin  ye  were  as  tichtly 
wedded  as  me,  ye  wad  sing  a  very  different  tune.  But 
what  says  to  that  Maister  Job  Broon,  frae  Yorkshire?" 

Austin,  having  immediately  understood  who  buttered 
the  bread  in  the  house  of  Crae,  of  course  answered  with 
every  reasonable  promptitude  that,  being  also  unmarried, 
he  looked  upon  all  women  as  angels,  and  married  women 
in  especial  as  archangels. 

This  obliging  reply  put  Mistress  MacCormick  in  high 
good-humor,  and  while  a  more  substantial  supper  was 
preparing,  she  opened  the  cupboard  she  had  so  abruptly 
locked,  drew  from  thence  a  square-faced  green  bottle  of 
Hollands,  and  arranged  glasses  upon  a  silver  tray  on  the 
table. 

"  We  will  be  able  to  keep  the  guidman  in  order  this 
nicht,"  she  cried,  smiling  in  great  good-humor.  "  Anton, 
ye  lazy  sumph,  get  the  stranger  a  chair,  and,  sir,  tell  us 
the  best  o'  your  news.  What  think  ye  o'  the  lamentable 
state  o'  this  distractit  country  ?" 

331 


THE    DAKK    0'    THE    MOON 

Austin  answered  cautiously  that  he  had  as  yet  thought 
little  about  it,  that  it  was  his  business  to  inspect  cattle 
and  sheep  with  a  view  to  purchase;  but  that  by  the  time 
he  returned  from  Ireland  he  hoped  that  the  trouble  would 
be  over,  as  he  found  it  almost  impossible  to  get  men  to 
drive  his  beasts  to  market. 

At  this  announcement  the  little,  red-cheeked  man  visibly 
brightened,  and  said  that  he  had  threescore  sheep  in  prime 
condition,  besides  a  dozen  Highland  cattle  out  on  the  hill, 
all  which  he  would  be  pleased  to  show  Maister  Broon  the 
next  day  as  early  as  he  liked. 

"  But  the  l)est  o'  them  are  gane,  sir !"  cried  the  lady. 
"  Thae  Levellers !  vaigabonds  that  they  are — " 

"  Wheesh,  wheesh !  cannily  and  smoothly,  guid-wife ! 
Mind  whaur  ye  are  speakin' !"  said  Anton,  with  a  glance 
across  at  Silver  Sand,  who  sat  steadily  regarding  the  fire 
on  the  hearth. 

"  Deed,  an'  I'll  wheesht  nane !"  cried  the  angry  matron, 
who,  like  most  women,  became  strongly  partisan  as  soon 
as  politics  touched  her  personally.  "  To  think  o'  the 
bonny  wethers  that  hae  gane  aff  the  hill,  and  never  a  penny 
to  pay  for  them !  And  two  bullocks  that  had  no  their 
match  between  Merrick  and  the  sea — a'  boiled  in  a  pot  to 
pamper  the  stammocks  o'  a  wheen  blackyards,  the  scum 
o'  the  earth !  Oh,  that  I  had  married  a  man,  and  no  a 
bundle  o'  sauch-wands  that  the  wind  blaws  through  and 
through !" 

As  she  spoke  she  looked  at  the  sturdy  form  and  square 
shoulders  of  the  English  drover  with  a  directness  of  ad- 
miration which  made  that  modest  gentleman  most  uncom- 
fortable. 

"  Sure  am  I,"  she  continued,  raising  her  voice  for  the 
third  time,  "  that  rather  than  lose  the  sheep  oot  o'  his 
parks  and  the  nowt  aff  his  hill,  Maister  Brown  wad  hae 
ta'en  his  musket  and  whinger  and  ga'en  to  the  heather  to 
hae  satisfaction  o'  a  wheen  thieves  an'  catherans  that  caa' 

332 


CATTLE-DExlLER    AND    SPY 

themsel's  Levellers,  and  wad  a'  be  the  better  o'  a  guid 
hangin'  by  the  neck,  ilka  yin  o'  them !" 

"  I  fear  if  he  had  done  so.  Mistress  MacCorraick,  that 
you  might  this  night  have  been  a  widow,"  said  Silver  Sand, 
smiling  quietly. 

Mistress  MacCormick  of  Crae  was  filling  Austin's  glass 
with  a  second  supply  of  Hollands  when  she  heard  these 
words,  and  as  soon  as  she  had  finished  she  cast  a  wide 
circuit  about  the  speaker's  chair,  ostentatiously  leaving 
him  out  of  my  further  distribution  of  good  things,  and 
merely  adding  a  little  to  the  contents  of  her  own  and  her 
husband's  glasses.  Silver  Sand  watched  her  with  a  look 
of  quiet  amusement. 

"  Widow  or  no,"  she  replied,  tossing  her  head,  "  at  least 
I  wad  hae  been  free  to  mairry  a  man,  and  that's  better 
than  bein'  the  wife  o'  a  craitur  wi'  nae  mair  backbane  in 
him  than  the  dishclout !" 

To  heal  the  little  disturbance,  Anton  had  risen  from 
his  seat  by  the  fireside,  and  set  on  the  table  a  plateful  of 
oatcakes  and  a  segment  of  very  solid-looking  skim-milk 
cheese. 

"Hae,  lads!"  he  cried,  with  an  attempt  at  merriment 
very  obviously  forced,  "  sit  in,  an'  try  some  o'  my  wife's 
cheese.  It's  her  ain  makin',  and  I'se  warrant  ye  there's 
neither  dirt  nor  butter  in't !" 

But  Silver  Sand,  observing  that  his  presence  was  not  to 
the  mind  of  the  lady  of  the  house,  presently  lifted  his  hat, 
and  amid  the  loud  lamentations  of  his  host  and  the  dour 
silence  of  Mistress  MacCormick,  courteously  took  his  leave. 
He  shook  hands  with  Austin  Tredennis,  and  said  as  he  did 
so,  with  an  emphasis  which  the  soldier  could  not  fathom, 
"  Till  our  next  meeting,  sir." 

As  soon  as  Silver  Sand  was  well  out  of  the  kitchen  and 
safe  down  the  little  loaning,  the  storm  which  had  been 
gathering  within  the  farm  kitchen  suddenly  and  over- 
whelmingly broke. 

333 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE    MOON 

Austin  sat  silent  and  even  a  little  intimidated,  in  spite 
of  his  amusement,  while  the  tornado  lasted.  With  great 
solemnity  the  lady  of  the  house  took  the  rolling-pin  from 
a  shelf  in  the  corner  where  it  reposed  in  company  with  the 
potato-beetle  and  a  wide  earthenware  "  byne "  of  blue 
skim  milk.  Then,  with  haughty  tread  and  menacing  air, 
fehe  stalked  across  to  her  husband,  who  sat  holding  on  with 
both  hands  to  the  arms  of  his  chair,  apparently  stricken 
dumb  by  these  warlike  preparations.  He  had  been  sitting 
with  his  hat  on  his  head,  as  is  the  honorable  right  and 
custom  of  the  master  of  the  house  when  presiding  in  his 
own  house  at  a  meal  of  any  kind. 

War  was  formally  declared  by  the  belligerent  dame 
knocking  her  husband's  hat  from  his  head  with  her  left 
hand.  It  went  spinning  into  the  corner,  while  its  owner 
looked  ruefully  after  it,  well  knowing  that  if  it  fell  in  the 
water  pail  he  alone  would  be  blamed.  After  that,  how- 
ever, for  some  time  other  matters  claimed  his  attention. 
But  it  says  something  for  the  excellence  of  his  training 
that,  so  soon  as  he  was  again  at  liberty,  he  went  meekly 
into  the  corner  after  his  head  covering,  and  carefully  dust- 
ed it  with  his  sleeve,  whirling  it  meanwhile  round  upon 
the  points  of  the  fingers  of  the  other  hand. 

Then,  still  silent  with  the  awful  silence  of  an  approach- 
ing thunder-cloud, Mistress  IMacCormick  proceeded  to  shake 
the  rolling-pin  fiercely  in  her  husband's  face,  so  close  that 
if  he  had  moved  in  the  least  it  would  not  have  needed  the 
Levellers  to  make  a  widow  of  the  mistress  of  Crae.  The 
rolling-pin  would  have  done  it  for  her. 

"  I  daur  ye,  Anton  MacCormick !"  she  cried,  "  as  ye 
value  your  worthless  life,  to  bring  that  craitur  Silver  Sand 
into  this  hoose  again !  If  ever — frae  Yule-tide  to  Yule- 
tide,  in  winter  or  spring,  frae  morn  to  midnicht,  or  at  ony 
ither  season — ye  let  the  craitur  set  foot  in  this  hoose,  I, 
Jacobina  "ATacCormick,  will  break  every  bane  in  your  body 
■wi'  the  beetle,  and  syne  set  ye  to  the  loanin'  fit,  never  again 

334 


CATTLE-DEALER    AND    SPY 

to  show  your  face  within  sax  guid  Scots  miles  o'  the  Upper 
Crae.  Wha  brocht  ye  your  gear  and  plenishin'  ?  Jacobina 
MacCormick !  Wha  stockit  the  farm  wi'  Ayrshire  and 
shorthorn,  nowt-beast  and  Hielant  kyloe?  Jacobina  Mac- 
Cormick !  Wha's  sheep  are  bein'  robbit  aff  the  hill,  and 
wha's  bullocks  are  slaughtered  to  mak'  broth  for  your 
friends  the  Levellers,  doon  in  the  Duchrae  Wood?  "Wha's 
but  Jacobina  MacCormick's?  And  that  Silver  Sand,  wi' 
his  saft  tongue,  and  '  By  your  leave,  madam !'  steppin'  in 
and  oot  like  Baudrons,  oor  pussy  cat,  at  a  mouse-hole, 
doesna  tak'  me  in !  Na,  Anton  MacCormick,  f  rae  this 
day  forth,  never  let  me  see  you  or  hear  tell  o'  you  in  that 
gypsy's  company !  He  comes  here  for  nocht  but  to  spy 
oot  the  land  for  his  friends  doon  there.  Noo,  there's  nocht 
o'  the  spy  aboot  this  gentleman.  He  comes  steppin'  muckle 
and  braw  and  gawcy  up  to  the  door,  chaps  at  it  like  a  man, 
and  fills  the  chair  he  sits  on  when  he  set  him  doon,  as 
featly  as  parritch  fits  a  bicker  ! 

"  Noo  mind,  Anton  ]\IacCormick,  I  hae  warned  ye  for 
the  last  time !  And  faith,  my  man,  if  I  find  ye  takin'  up 
wi'  ony  spies  or  ill-contrivin'  Levellers,  to  the  loanin'  yett 
ye  gang — you  and  a'  your  guid-f or-naething  crew  !  Dod, 
and  it  wadna  tak'  Jacobina  MacCormick  lang  to  get  a  bet- 
ter man  than  you — aye,  if  she  had  to  mak'  him  hersel'  oot 
o'  a  hank  o'  whipcord  and  a  wheen  peasticks !" 

It  was  after  this,  as  the  history  has  already  recorded, 
that  the  master  of  the  house  went  into  the  corner  and 
picked  up  his  hat. 

While  she  was  preparing  supper.  Mistress  MacCormick 
was  very  willing  to  give  Austin  Tredennis  any  informa- 
tion in  her  power,  and  as  soon  as  she  understood  that 
he  had  small  sympathy  with  the  Levellers  she  spoke 
freely. 

"  Ay,  ye  will  see  all-and-hale  o'  them  the  morn's  morn- 
inV  she  said.  "  I  will  tak'  ye  mysel'  after  I  hae  lockit  up 
YON  in  the  milk-hoose." 

335 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

(She  indicated  her  lord  with  her  elbow  as  he  still  stood 
by  the  transe  humbly  wiping  the  whitewash  off  his  hat. ) 

"  There's  twa  hunder  o'  them,  or  maybes  three,  and  their 
trenches  and  warks  are  a  sicht  to  see.  Maist  o'  them  are 
raw  young  lads — ploughmen  and  cotmen's  sons.  But 
there's  a  score  o'  smugglers  and  hill-gypsies,  and  they  say 
(but  I  kenna  for  the  truth  o't)  that  Hector  Faa  himsel'  is 
there  amang  them,  and  his  dochter,  her  that  brak  oot  o' 
the  gaol  o'  Kirkcudbright." 

"  What !"  cried  Austin  Tredennis,  in  apparent  amaze- 
ment. "  Surely  there  are  no  women  with  them — in  such 
a  place,  and  without  tents  ?" 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,"  cried  the  mistress  of  the  Crae,  "  they 
allow  nae  women  as  a  general  thing !  Only  this  Joyce  Faa 
is  wi'  her  faither,  and  they  say  (but  mind,  I'm  no  forcin' 
ye  to  believe  it)  that  their  head  captain  is  a  young  lass 
frae  the  shore-side — a  terrible  clever  hizzie  she  is.  They 
ca'  her  Dick  o'  the  Isle.  I  met  the  jaud  ae  day,  a'  wrappit 
up  in  a  great  blue  coat,  and  a  bauld-lookin'  besom  she  was, 
wi'  petticoats  kilted  half-way  to  her  knee  and  a  pair  o' 
pistolets  at  her  belt.  For  me,  that  am  a  decent  woman, 
I  want  nae  comin's  or  gangin's  wi'  the  likes  o'  her,  whether 
she  be  man,  woman,  or  deil !" 

And  as  Austin  Tredennis  laid  himself  on  the  comfort- 
able bed  in  the  "  propliet's  chaumer  "  of  the  Higher  Crae, 
ho  shut  his  eyes  upon  a  vision  of  a  young  girl  in  a  great 
cloak  of  blue  with  a  silver  tache  and  neck-chain,  setting 
sentries  and  visiting  posts  in  the  autumnal  rains,  and 
sleeping  at  night  under  these  late  and  unkindly  northern 
heavens.  And  in  spite  of  the  condemnation  of  Mistress 
MacCormick,  he  resolved  that  if  he  had  not  considerable 
"comings  and  gangin's"  in  the  days  that  were  to  come 
with  the  young  Captain  of  Levellers,  the  fault  would  not 
be  his. 

336 


XLIV 

THE    CAMP    IN    DUCHRAE    WOOD 

OX  the  morrow  Austin  Tredennis  spent  most  of  the 
morning  visiting  the  flocks  and  herds  secured  to  the 
farmer  of  Upper  Crae  hy  his  wife's  dower  (a  fact  kept  in 
the  good  man's  recollection  very  constantly  by  the  lady 
herself),  and  as  he  went  he  kept  an  open  eye  for  all  that 
was  to  be  seen  of  the  Levellers'  encampment  in  the  Duch- 
rae  Wood. 

He  could  discern  a  line  of  sentinels  drawn  from  a  point 
a  little  below  the  stepping-stones  by  which  he  had  crossed 
up  to  Mount  Pleasant,  a  wooded  hill  bare  at  the  top  over- 
looking the  Cave  and  the  head  of  the  Loch  of  Grenoch. 
His  guide  pointed  out  the  outpost  on  the  hill-top,  and  re- 
marked, with  much  acerbity,  that  they  were  engaged  in 
cooking. 

"  And  verra  likely  ym  o'  my  ain  yowes,"  she  exclaimed, 
"  and  the  guidman  in  the  milk-hoose  no  carin'  Jot  nor 
tittle !" 

Austin  thought  that  if  he  had  been  locked  in  the  milk- 
house,  he  would  have  shown  himself  equally  indifferent  as 
to  the  fate  of  his  gaoler's  dowry. 

But  it  was,  of  course,  the  camp  in  the  wood  that  occu- 
pied most  of  his  attention.  The  situation  was  naturally  a 
strong  one — that  is,  if,  as  was  most  likely,  it  had  to  be 
attacked  solely  by  cavalry  or  by  an  irregular  force  without 
artillery. 

In  front  the  Grenoch  Lane  was  still  and  deep,  with  a 
22  337 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

bottom  of  treacherous  mud.  Swamps  encircled  it  to  the 
north,  while  behind  there  was  a  good  mile  of  broken 
ground,  with  frequent  marshes  and  moss-hags.  Save  where 
the  top  of  the  camp  mound  was  cleared  to  admit  of  the 
scanty  brushwood  huts  and  patchwork  tents  of  the  Level- 
lers, the  whole  position  was  further  covered  and  defended 
by  a  perfect  jungle  of  bramble,  whin,  thorn,  sloe,  and 
hazel,  through  which  paths  had  been  opened  in  all  direc- 
tions to  the  best  positions  of  defence. 

Here  and  there,  out  on  the  opener  country  towards  the 
east  where  the  camp  was  not  defended  by  the  river  and 
marshes,  Austin  could  see  that  trenches  had  been  made 
and  earthworks  raised,  with  loopholes  regularly  con- 
structed of  wood  and  stone  for  the  defenders  to  fire  upon 
any  assailant.  The  main  camp  itself  was  encircled  with 
a  fosse  very  wide  and  deep,  but  even  from  his  elevated 
station  on  the  side  of  the  opposite  hill  Austin  Tredennis 
could  see  nothing  of  the  immediate  defences  of  the  posi- 
tion. Nevertheless,  he  marvelled  greatly  where  Marion  of 
the  Isle  had  gotten  her  military  skill. 

A  bugle  sounded  presently,  not  ill-blown,  though  the 
call  was  not  one  used  by  his  Majesty's  forces.  And  it  was 
with  considerable  amusement  that  Austin,  from  his 
elevated  post  on  the  Hill  of  Crae,  could  see  the  Levellers 
moving  in  fair  order  over  the  open  ground — their  for- 
mation, however,  being  presently  broken  up  as  they 
reached  the  glacis  and  shelter  trenches  of  their  rude  for- 
tification. 

But  that  there  was  good  discipline  among  them  of  a 
rough  and  ready  sort  Austin  could  see.  In  his  eagerness  to 
make  out  more  he  would  have  approached  nearer,  but  the 
mistress  of  Crae  motioned  him  away,  even  taking  his  arm 
to  pull  him  further  up  the  hill. 

"  They  are  no  chancy !"  she  said,  earnestly.  "  There 
are  some  that  wad  as  soon  put  a  shot  intil  a  man  as  a 
knife  in  a  sheep's  throat.     It's  sair — sair  on  decent  folk 

338 


THE    CAMP   IN   DUCHEAE    WOOD 

that  pay  rent  honestly  to  a  guid  laird  to  be  harried  and 
harassed  wi'  a  pack  o'  scoundrels,  the  gather-up  o'  a'  the 
riff-rafE  i'  the  countryside !" 

But  the  sound  of  the  bugle  in  his  ears,  and  the  knowl- 
edge that  a  certain  blue  cloak  was  within  a  clear  mile  of 
him,  prevented  Austin  from  paying  that  undivided  atten- 
tion to  the  nowt  and  wethers,  the  ewes  and  lambs  of  Mis- 
tress MacCormick's  flocks  and  herds  which  that  lady  con- 
sidered their  due.  Nevertheless,  she  brought  him  back 
to  the  house  of  Crae,  and  liberated  her  husband  from  his 
ignominious  position  in  the  milk-house,  with  the  comfort- 
able conviction  that  she  had  paved  the  way  to  several 
excellent  bargains  when  the  "  Muckle  Englishman  "  should 
be  upon  his  return  from  Ireland. 

Then,  after  a  comfortable  muirland  dinner  of  "  braxie  " 
hain  and  such  bits  of  meat  as  had  been  boiled  in  the  broth, 
Austin  prepared  to  set  out.  He  had  given  his  entertainers 
to  understand  that  it  was  his  intention  to  proceed  farther 
up  the  strath  of  Ken.  And  his  host,  making  secret  and 
anxious  signals  to  Austin  to  support  him,  observed  to  his 
wife  that  he  should  show  the  stranger  a  road  by  which  he 
could  avoid  the  armed  bands  of  the  Levellers,  but  his  wife 
promptly  forbade. 

"  Na,  na,  Anton,"  she  said;  "  brawly  do  I  ken  ye,  my 
auld  man !  A'  that  ye  want  is  juist  to  hae  a  chance  at  the 
public-hoose  up  by  at  the  Newtown  o'  Gallowa' !  But  that 
ye  are  nane  gaun  to  get!  Sit  ye  doon  on  your  decent 
hinder-end,  guidman,  and  read  NapJithali,  or  the  Suffer- 
ings o'  the  Saints,  or,  by  my  certes,  back  ye  gang  into  the 
milk-house  again !" 

It  thus  happened  that  after  a  brief  convoy  from  the 
goodwife  of  the  Crae,  and  a  farewell  which  almost  verged 
upon  the  tender,  Austin  Tredennis  was  left  to  his  re- 
sources on  the  brow  of  the  hill  overlooking  the  tangled 
depths  of  the  Hollan  Isle.  Twilight  was  yet  a  good  hour 
off,  so  there  was  plenty  of  time  for  thought  before  it  would 

339 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

be  safe  to  take  any  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  camp  in 
the  Duchrae  Wood. 

Mistress  j\IacCormick's  last  gift  had  been  a  handsome 
mutton  ham  which  Austin  had  admired  that  morning, 
when  she  took  it  down  from  the  "  baulks "  to  cut  a 
"  whang "  for  breakfast.  She  also  bestowed  on  him  an 
unopened  bottle  of  Hollands.  Consequently  he  was  some- 
what at  a  loss  to  know  how  to  acknowledge  in  kind  this 
exceeding  courtesy,  as  his  plain  equipage  of  travel  was  not 
of  the  sort  to  please  a  lady.  But  remembering  a  mother-of- 
pearl  snuff-box  which  he  had  long  carried  for  his  friends' 
use,  he  presented  it  to  Mistress  ]\IacCormick  with  a  low 
bow,  at  the  same  time  apologizing  for  its  lack  of  value. 

"  Certes !"  cried  Mistress  MacCormick,  almost  pouncing 
upon  it  in  her  eagerness,  "  gin  ye  gie  me  the  precious  rap- 
pee that's  in  it,  that  will  be  payment  mair  than  sufficient 
for  ony  little  1  hac  dune.  But  the  braw,  braw  boxie — na, 
na,  keep  it  for  a  younger  an'  bonnier  lass,  and  yin  no 
taigled  wi'  an  auld  dune  man,  that  may  yet  hoast  and 
hirjjle  on  for  a  score  o'  years  yet — Guid  kens  hoo  lang, 
mair's  the  pecty !" 

However,  upon  Austin  gallantly  affirming  that  the  snuff- 
box could  not  have  a  fairer  or  in  any  respect  more  eligible 
owner,  and  insisting  on  the  lady  retaining  both  box  and 
contents,  her  objections  were  overruled.  So,  in  the  hood 
of  his  cloak  of  frieze,  the  disguised  soldier  carried  away, 
as  in  a  saddle-bag,  not  only  the  mutton  ham  and  the 
square-faced  green  bottle,  but  also  a  dozen  stout  scones 
newly  baked  for  his  especial  behoof,  and  as  many  smaller 
articles  of  diet  as  he  could  be  induced  to  accept  for  his 
arduous  journey  into  the  wilds  of  Kells.  It  was,  indeed, 
well  in  some  respects,  considering  the  weight  of  his  pack, 
that  his  journey  was  destined  to  be  a  shorter  one. 

The  more  Austin  turned  over  the  subject  in  his  mind, 
the  more  determined  he  became  that  he  would  not  permit 

340 


THE    CAMP    IN    DUCHRAE    WOOD 

himself  to  be  braved  and  thwarted  by  a  girl  like  Marion. 
He  had  allowed  her  to  depart  unquestioned  from  the  prison 
of  Kirkcudbright  because  he  thought  she  would  go  home 
and  abide  quiet  in  her  father's  house — as  was,  indeed,  her 
duty.  But  here  was  she  back  again  in  the  ranks  of  the 
Levellers,  and,  according  to  report,  in  the  company  of  men 
who  were  little  better  than  thieves  and  reivers. 

It  did  not,  however,  occur  to  him  that  he,  Austin  Tre- 
dennis,  was  not  his  brother's  keeper,  far  less  that  of  an 
adult  member  of  the  opposite  sex  in  no  way  related  to 
him — a  girl,  too,  not  of  his  degree,  tainted  with  rebellion, 
and  mixed  up  with  all  sorts  of  doings,  not  to  be  condoned, 
much  less  approved,  by  an  officer  of  the  King's  regular 
army. 

But  Tredennis  was  far  too  logical  to  be  at  any  time 
without  a  reason.  He  had,  indeed,  twenty  explanations 
of  his  feelings  and  actions,  each  more  complete  and  con- 
vincing than  the  last.  Beyond  all  doubt  he  was  surely 
treading  the  obvious  path  of  duty  in  thus  endeavoring  to 
obtain  such  information  as  would  put  a  stop  to  this  foolish 
and  fratricidal  little  war.  If  he  could  remove  the  leader 
from  the  affair,  the  rebellion,  such  as  it  was,  would  col- 
lapse. It  was  ridiculous,  at  any  rate,  that  a  woman  should 
be  mixed  up  with  the  affair.  Suppose  his  Majesty's  troops 
should  be  ordered  to  take  the  camp,  how  would  it  appear 
if  a  woman  were  among  the  killed  and  wounded?  His 
Majesty's  cavalry  did  not  make  war  on  women. 

Nevertheless,  it  did  not  occur  to  the  young  man  that 
he  was  in  love.  In  his  own  view,  he  had  no  selfish  motives 
whatever.  He  would  carry  off  Marion  in  order  to  give 
her  up  to  her  parents,  or  in  some  other  way  prevent  her 
from  having  more  to  do  with  this  foolishness.  On  such 
occasions  there  are  wont  to  be  whole  Golcondas  of  un- 
selfish devotion  to  duty  in  young  men's  hearts. 

It  did  not  strike  Austin  as  ludicrous  that  though  he  had 
been  credibly  informed  that  a  maiden  by  the  name  of  Joyce 

341 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

Faa  was  also  present  in  the  camp  of  the  rebels,  he  made 
absolutely  no  plans  for  her  behoof.  Joyce  Faa  might  take 
her  chance.  Captain  Tredennis's  charity  began  and  ended 
with  ]\[arion  of  the  Isle. 

When  the  twilight  was  sufficiently  advanced  to  render 
his  progress  down  the  hill-side  safe  from  any  observation 
from  the  opposite  bank,  Austin  Tredennis  slowly  made  his 
way  towards  the  fords  of  the  Black  Water.  It  was  not  his 
intention,  indeed,  to  cross  directly  into  the  camp,  or  to 
make  any  decided  move  till  mature  observation  had  shown 
him  the  best  way  and  time  of  action.  He  knew  that  on 
all  the  rugged  hills  behind  their  main  position  the  Level- 
lers would  have  outposts,  but  he  judged  that,  their  water 
front  being  protected  by  the  deep  and  impassable  Lane  of 
Grenoch,  it  would  be  more  slightly  guarded. 

It  was  his  plan,  therefore,  to  begin  operations  by  getting 
upon  the  little  wooded  triangle  of  island,  opposite  the 
camp,  called  Hollan  Isle.  This  place  was  perfectly  suited 
to  his  twin  purposes  of  concealment  and  observation,  being 
surrounded  on  both  sides  by  the  deep  Lane,  which  bifur- 
cates almost  immediately  in  front  of  the  camp,  and  on 
the  other  side  is  closed  in  by  the  Black  Water  of  Dee 
itself. 

Austin  had  observed  this  woody  fastness  in  the  morning. 
It  promised  abundance  of  cover  of  all  kinds.  It  was  imme- 
diately in  front  of  the  enemy's  main  position — within  ear- 
shot almost,  yet  perfectly  safe.  For  the  black  lily-pools 
were  here  at  their  widest  and  deepest,  and,  swimming 
being  an  unknown  art  among  the  farm  folk  of  Gallo- 
way, it  was  unlikely  that  he  would  be  discovered  or  dis- 
turbed. 

Following  the  branch  of  the  Lane  farthest  from  the 
camp,  Tredennis  came  before  long  to  the  Black  Water, 
which  runs  here  in  a  rapid,  shallowish,  brawling  course. 
This  lie  crossed  without  difficulty,  the  water  not  coming  to 
the  top  of  his  military  boots.    But  it  was  a  different  mat- 

342 


THE    CAMP    IN    DUCHRAE    WOOD 

ter  when,  a  few  hundred  yards  lower  down,  he  had  to  re- 
cross  again  to  the  Hollan  Isle.  This  time  he  had  perforce 
to  take  off  his  boots  and  stockings,  and  in  a  brief  and  airy 
costume  to  make  his  way  over  into  the  recesses  of  the  isle. 
During  the  transit  he  had  cause  to  remember  that  the 
month  was  October. 

Very  cautiously  he  made  his  way  through  the  dense 
undergrowth  to  the  edge  of  the  water  opposite  the  camp. 
He  could  hear  the  cheerful  voices  of  the  Levellers,  and,  as 
the  darkness  grew  deeper,  discern  in  the  sky  the  reflection 
of  their  evening  cooking-fires. 

Tredennis  dried  himself  as  well  as  he  could,  and  put 
on  his  boots  and  leggings.  Then  in  order  to  guard  against 
possible  chill,  he  took  a  short  pull  at  the  bottle  of  Hollands 
for  which  he  had  paid  with  politeness  and  the  mother-of- 
pearl  snuff-box.  Though  the  night  was  cold,  he  felt  not 
altogether  uncomfortable.  For  Austin  Tredennis,  being 
an  old  campaigner,  knew  well  how  to  attend  to  the  prov- 
end  as  well  as  how  to  make  the  best  of  any  situation,  how- 
ever unpromising. 

He  made  it,  therefore,  his  first  care  to  seek  out  and 
arrange  a  place  where  he  might  pass  the  night  with  some 
degree  of  comfort.  Of  course,  the  making  of  a  fire  was  out 
of  the  question  on  any  part  of  the  Isle.  He  was  much  too 
near  the  camp  of  the  enemy  (which  was  yet  not  the  camp 
of  his  enemy).  But  broom  and  furze  abounded  on  the 
Hollan  Isle,  as  well  as  heather  so  long  and  tangled  that  he 
waded  in  it  to  the  waist  like  a  bather  in  the  sea.  The  long 
drought  of  summer  and  early  autumn  had  made  the  ground 
(which  is  here  sometimes  moist)  dry  as  a  bone,  and  Austin 
had  no  difficulty  in  selecting  a  spot  near  the  centre  of  the 
island,  sheltered  from  every  wind,  under  a  dry,  gravelly 
bank,  and  with  whin  and  broom  rising  on  every  side  like  a 
green  fortalice.  He  pulled  sufficient  heather  from  different 
places  to  form  a  couch  light  and  elastic.  Then,  carefully 
marking  the  spot  bv  observing  the  forms  of  the  trees 

343 


THE    DAllK    0'     THE     MOON 

against  the  sky,  he  glided  away  towards  the  nearest  point 
from  which  he  could  obtain  a  view  of  the  camp  of  the 
Levellers. 

His  curiosity  was  strongly  excited,  and  it  was  with  a 
beating  heart,  more  like  that  of  a  recruit  than  that  of  so 
old  an  adventurer,  that  he  parted  the  last  bushes  with  a 
slow  and  careful  hand,  and  gazed  across  at  the  camp  on 
the  opposite  shore. 

The  eminence  on  which  the  main  defences  had  been 
erected  rose  high  above  his  head,  and  he  could  only  look 
up  the  steep  slope  and  observe  that  it  had  been  carefully 
levelled  to  form  a  glacis,  and  furnished  with  earthen 
bastions  at  the  corner  to  provide  stances  for  cross-fire  in 
case  of  direct  assault. 

Down  on  a  little,  smooth  piece  of  meadow  within  the 
outer  lines,  yet  convenient  to  the  water-edge,  several  great 
fires  were  burning.  Sometimes  Austin  could  feel  the 
warmth  of  the  blaze  as  great  quantities  of  fresh  brush- 
wood were  continually  thrown  on.  It  was,  after  all,  a  kind 
of  play  to  many  of  these  lads,  and  scores  of  them  labored 
incessantly,  joking  and  laughing  as  they  did  so,  at  bring- 
ing dried  wood,  branches,  heather  roots,  and  other  light 
fuel  to  add  to  the  flames — oftentimes  even  embarrassing 
the  cooks  by  their  endeavors,  and  in  one  case  actually 
setting  fire  to  the  tripod  upon  which  the  evening  stew-pot 
was  swinging. 

More  than  once,  so  strong  was  the  light  that  Austin  in- 
voluntarily drew  back  into  the  deeper  shade,  fearful  that 
his  presence  so  near  at  hand  might  be  accidentally  revealed. 
But  really  he  was  in  no  danger,  for  since  from  a  lighted 
room  one  cannot  see  out  into  the  dark,  so  those  within  the 
circle  of  the  camp-fires  could  see  only  the  dim  blur  of 
blackness  which  represented  the  isle  of  Austin's  observa- 
tory. 

Upon  a  felled  tree  which  formed  part  of  the  defences 
on  the  land  side  a  group  of  older  men  were  seated,  talk- 

344 


THE    CAMP    I^T    DUCHRAE    WOOD 

ing  soberly  together,  evidently  discussing  plans,  and,  in 
the  intervals  of  speech,  cleaning  such  arms  as  they  pos- 
sessed. 

Tredennis  was  astonished  to  see  how  many  of  excellent 
pieces  there  were  in  the  hands  of  the  Levellers.  He  did 
not  know  that  the  folk  of  Scotland,  like  the  Spaniards,  are 
an  armed  people,  security  having  only  of  late  come  into 
these  southern  straths.  In  addition  to  the  guns,  there 
were  smugglers'  jocktelegs,  now  made  longer  than  had  been 
intended  by  the  original  Jacques  de  Liege,  whose  name 
was  still  stamped  on  the  blades.  Every  man  possessed 
one  of  these.  Some  wore  also  whingers,  or  short  swords 
like  cutlasses,  and  pistols  of  all  kinds  were  common, 
from  the  miniature  article  made  to  swing  at  a  horseman's 
wrist  so  as  not  to  interfere  with  his  reins  or  break  his 
sword-stroke  in  a  charge,  up  to  the  mighty  horse-pistol 
with  its  bell  mouth  and  a  charge  of  powder  like  a  blun- 
derbuss. He  noted,  also,  the  pitchforks  and  Irish  pikes 
atfected  by  a  few  of  the  Wigtonshire  men,  while  as  an  ad- 
ditional weapon  of  offence  many  of  the  lads  had  mount- 
ed the  prongs  of  a  pitchfork  upon  the  muzzles  of  their 
guns,  in  such  a  way  as  not  to  interfere  with  the  firing 
of  the  piece,  forming  a  rude  but  highly  effective  sort  of 
bayonet. 

Presently  there  came  again  the  bugle  signal  from  the 
I^evellers'  headquarters  upon  the  summit  of  the  main 
camp,  and  therefore  out  of  sight  of  Tredennis.  At  the 
sound  there  ensued  a  great  running  to  and  fro,  and  crying 
of  names  and  numbers,  all  which  diverted  him  exceedingly. 
Then,  in  a  trice,  and  with  an  alacrity  which  the  old  soldier 
could  not  but  admire,  the  men  fell  into  messes  of  about 
ten,  and  rations  were  served  out. 

A  hot  word  or  two  was  bandied  occasionally  among  the 
younger  men,  evidently  having  relation  to  charges  of  un- 
fair division,  which  could  hardly  fail  to  occur  when  so 
large  a  portion  of  the  provender  consisted  of  the  rabbits 

345 


THE    DARK    0'     THE     MOON 

which  abound  all  about  the  Duchrae  Bank  and  scurry  and 
patter  within  the  limits  of  the  camp  itself. 

Presently,  however,  Austin  saw  a  sight  which  thrilled 
him,  and  he  started  forward  automatically,  forgetting 
alike  the  danger  of  his  position  and  the  deep,  still  Lane 
which  separated  him  from  the  camp  in  the  Duchrae 
Wood. 

As  the  men  were  finishing  their  portion  of  food  a  tall 
figure,  closely  wrapped  in  a  dark  cloak,  came  down  from 
the  main  camp  and  moved  with  youthful  alertness  of  gait 
from  group  to  group.  He  knew  that  cloak.  His  hard-won, 
belated  pay  had  settled  the  score  for  it.  He  knew  the 
figure  also.  It  was  his  sometime  prisoner  of  Maclellan's 
Wark.  His  lover's  instinct  had  not  played  him  false.  She 
was  there — her  life  every  day  in  danger,  the  girl  whom 
for  a  moment  he  had  held  weeping  in  his  arms.  It  did  not 
seem  possible  now;  but  so  it  was,  and  so,  Tredennis  told 
himself,  with  a  certain  dour,  masculine  pride,  it  would  be 
again. 

As  the  meal  ended  there  ensued  a  solemn  interlude. 
Gray-clad  men,  with  blue  bonnets,  came  pouring  down 
the  sides  of  the  earthworks.  They  sprang  like  pixies  out 
of  the  covering  trenches.  They  appeared  unexpectedly, 
like  grave  fairies  out  of  the  wood,  and  before  Tredennis 
could  make  out  what  they  intended,  the  whole  force  of 
the  Levellers  was  gathered  on  the  greensward  before  the 
camp-fires,  and  the  notes  of  their  solemn  even-song  were 
wafted  far  on  the  light  wind.  These  were  the  words  they 
sang: 

"  O  God  of  Bethel,  by  whose  hand 
Thy  people  still   are  fed, 
Who  through  this  weary  pilgrimage 
Hast  all  our  fathers  led. 

"  Our  vows,  our  prayers  we  now  present 
Before   Thy   throne  of  grace, 
God  of  our  prayers,  be  the  God  *t     ' 

Of  our  succeeding  race!" 

346 


THE    CAMP    IN    DUCHEAE    WOOD 

And,  all  unconsciously,  Austin  uncovered  also,  standing 
up  reverently  behind  the  shelter  of  a  thick-leaved  hazel, 
while  these  poor,  unlearned,  often  misguided  men  sang 
their  evening  song  of  praise  to  the  God  of  Battles,  to  whom 
once  more  they  committed  their  griefs  and  wrongs  and 
injuries. 


XLV 

THE    OLDEST    WAY    OF    WOOING    IN    THE    WORLD 

A  CCUSTOMED  to  the  watches  of  the  camp  and  the 
-ZTx.  wakefulness  which  becomes  second  nature  to  a  man 
much  employed  upon  dangerous  services,  Austin  Tredennis 
often  left  his  lair  among  the  gorse  and  heather  to  steal 
down  to  the  water-side,  in  order  to  see  what  he  could  of  the 
order  and  discipline  maintained  during  the  night  in  the 
camp  of  the  Levellers. 

He  had  managed  to  construct  for  himself,  of  somewhat 
unpromising  materials,  a  not  altogether  uncomfortable 
nest,  and  by  dint  of  turning  round  two  or  three  times,  like 
a  couching  dog,  so  as  to  mix  the  ingredients  well  together, 
Tredennis  snatched  enough  sleep  to  satisfy  a  frame  well 
indurated  to  war's  alarms  and  a  mind  which  habitually 
worked  best  in  the  midst  of  dangers.  A  pretty  girl  who, 
after  showing  the  bravery  of  a  Paladin,  suddenly  dis- 
solved into  tears,  might,  indeed,  upset  the  mind  of  this  cap- 
tain of  horse;  but  to  lie  all  night  within  a  few  hundred 
yards  of  an  enemy  who  would  undoubtedly  shoot  him  at 
sight,  to  wrap  himself  in  a  frieze  cloak,  and  couch  among 
heather  and  bracken  for  all  covering  upon  an  October 
night,  arrived  to  Tredennis  merely  as  part  of  the  day's 
work. 

The  Levellers'  watch  was  well  kept,  and  more  than  once 
Tredennis  saw  the  tall,  slim  figure  in  the  blue  military 
cloak  passing  from  post  to  post,  as  if  to  be  assured  of  the 
sentry's  watchfulness.    And  it  was  with  curiously  mingled 

348 


TPIE    OLDEST    WAY    OF    WOOING 

feelings  that  Austin  remembered  that  the  device  on  the 
silver  tache  was  that  of  Ligonier's  Horse.  Once  the 
watcher  thought  that  he  was  certainly  discovered.  The 
sentinel  who  had  the  beat  immediately  along  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  Lane  halted  directly  opposite  the  place  of  his 
concealment.  It  chanced  that  Austin  had  laid  himself  out 
at  full  length  upon  the  trunk  of  a  willow,  which  was  in- 
clined almost  at  right  angles  over  the  pool.  He  had  been 
hoping  to  see  the  figure  in  the  cloak  again  pass  by,  and 
perhaps  the  dying  firelight  glisten  on  the  clasp  of  silver. 
Late  at  night  and  alone,  men  watch  long  for  such  things 
as  these,  or,  when  they  cannot  see  them,  they  think  upon 
them. 

The  sentry  passed  on  his  beat  directly  opposite  to  Tre- 
dennis,  and  within  fifty  yards  of  where  he  lay  prone  on 
his  gnarled  willow-trunk.  He  stood  so  long  motionless 
that  Austin  slid  his  hand  back  to  grasp  the  hilt  of  his 
ready  pistol:  but  the  next  sentinel  reaching  the  extremity 
of  the  beat,  and  after  a  turn  or  two  observing  his  comrade 
still  intent  upon  something,  cried  to  him,  "  Rab,  do  ye 
see  onything?" 

"Ay,"  said  the  stolid  Leveller,  shoulderi-ng  his  piece 
and  resuming  his  march,  "  I  saw  a  trout  loup." 

Morning  came  chill  and  gray  about  six  of  the  clock, 
and  it  was  with  a  start  of  surprise  that  Austin  found  him- 
self awakened  by  a  strange  bugle-call.  He  felt  for  a  mo- 
ment an  instinct  to  spring  to  his  feet  and  give  the 
alarm.  He  could  have  sworn  that  he  was  once  more  in 
the  Low  Country  wars,  and  that  the  enemy  was  attacking 
the  sleeping  camp.  But  his  eyes  rested  on  the  green  gorse 
bush  out  of  which  he  had  hollowed  a  nest,  and  upon  an 
ancient  thorn-tree,  now  turning  russet  and  covering 'itself 
with  scarlet  berries.  A  sparrow  and  a  chaffinch  were 
quarrelling  over  their  breakfast  of  haws,  and  as  Austin 
raised  his  head  a  squirrel  ran  down  to  the  fork  of  a  branch 
and  chattered  angrily  at  the  intruder. 

349 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

And  again  the  bugle-call  sounded  from  the  brow  of  the 
Duchrae  Bank. 

In  a  moment  Austin  was  on  his  feet,  and  stealing  with 
tenfold  care  through  the  underbrush.  Upon  the  margin 
of  the  water  he  opened  the  reeds  carefully  with  his  hand 
and  peered  across. 

Parties  of  Levellers — mostly  of  the  younger  and  more 
reckless  sort — were  pouring  into  the  camp,  some  driving 
cattle  and  sheep  before  them,  others  with  pigs  and  poultry 
secured  in  various  ways  about  their  persons.  A  porker 
with  a  curly  tail  escaped  and  ran  squealing  across  the 
camp,  bounding  through  a  recently  lighted  fire,  scattering 
the  dried  twigs,  and  squealing  out  all  the  while  its  objec- 
tion to  die  a  violent  death.  Austin,  from  his  lair  among 
the  reeds,  could  hear  the  loud  boastings  of  some  of  the 
members  of  these  expeditions — how  this  one  had  accounted 
for  so  many  roods  of  Colonel  Gunter's  new  stone  wall, 
how  that  other  had  uprooted  a  plantation  of  young  firs 
that  had  been  planted  upon  his  father's  croft,  and  how  yet 
another  had  driven  off  a  dozen  cattle  belonging  to  an 
ardent  "  Encloser." 

It  was  obvious  that  the  Levellers,  in  spite  of  their  morn- 
ing and  evening  song  of  praise,  had  a  truly  Old  Testament 
conception  that  the  Egyptians  were  given  them  to  be 
spoiled,  and  that  war  ought  still  to  be  conducted  upon  the 
ancient  principle  of  living  as  much  as  possible  at  the 
enemy's  expense. 

The  sight  of  all  this  preparation  for  eating  reminded 
Tredennis  that  he  liad  not  partaken  of  anything  since  he 
left  the  hospitable  house  of  Crae  and  his  friend  Mistress 
Jacobina  MacCormick.  Marion  did  not  again  show  her- 
self, 'and  so,  after  waiting  twenty  minutes,  Austin  with- 
drew himself  noiselessly  through  the  reeds  and  brushwood 
till  he  had  reached  his  night's  shelter,  where  in  the  lee  of 
a  bieldy  hazel  he  cut  and  ate  alternate  slices  of  wheaten 
loaf  and  mutton  ham. 

350 


THE    OLDEST    WAY    OF    WOOING 

Water  is  never  scarce  on  the  Hollan  Isle  at  any  season 
of  the  year.  A  score  of  ripe  hazel-nuts  also  made  no  con- 
temptible dessert.  Indeed,  the  name  means  the  Island  of 
Hazel  Bushes,  and  the  fame  of  the  Hollan  Isle  as  a 
Golconda  of  nuts  is  great  in  all  the  countryside,  and  it 
was,  indeed,  Austin's  chief  danger  that  half  a  dozen  Level- 
lers, having  nothing  better  to  do,  might  adventure  over  to 
the  island  in  search  of  a  bagful  to  crack  bj  the  camp-fires 
in  the  evening. 

As  against  this,  however,  Austin  could  see  that  hazel 
bushes  grew  in  abundance  all  about  the  camp.  Indeed, 
the  men  went  about  cracking  nuts  as  they  marched  hither 
and  thither  on  their  errands.  The  sentinels  cracked  as 
they  stood  by  the  river-bank,  and  threw  the  shells  into 
the  water,  and  even  Marion,  musing  apart  from  the  hurry- 
ing throng  of  hinds  and  shepherd  lads,  put  up  her  fingers 
and  pulled  a  cluster  abstractedly,  like  one  deeply  im- 
mersed in  thought. 

The  bands  of  raiders  who  went  forth  from  the  camp 
were  composed  mostly  of  the  younger  and  more  active 
men,  but  these  were  in  charge  of  officers  elected  by  them- 
selves, mostly  sedate  and  soldierlike  men,  who  had  seen 
service  in  Morton's  or  the  Cameronian  regiment. 

And  all  the  while  there  ran  in  Austin  Tredennis's  heart 
a  stream  of  anger,  hot  as  lava  and  fierce  as  a  stormy  sea. 
The  feeling  for  law,  order,  obedience,  was  strong  within 
him.  He  had  never  thought  much  about  the  relations  of 
men  and  women  in  the  abstract,  contenting  himself  with 
a  simple  soldierly  solution  of  such  concrete  problems 
of  sex  as  chance  brought  in  his  way.  To  be  faithful  in 
dealings,  to  comfort  one's  self  honorably  in  all  things,  to 
speak  the  whole  truth  to  a  man,  and  as  much  as  possible 
of  it  to  a  woman — these  were  his  simple,  but  in  the  main 
not  incompetent,  standards. 

But  that  the  woman  was  created  to  obey  the  man  was 
really,  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  Austin  Tredennis's  heart, 

351 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

a  fundamental  dogma.  And  that  a  girl  should  flout  and 
disregard  his  will — a  girl  for  whom  he  had  risked  so 
much — stung  him  inexpressibly. 

For  myself,  I  have  found  everything  quite  otherwise. 
The  masculine  standpoint  is  one  I  take  with  difficulty.  I 
can  understand  women  (I  may  say,  without  self-gratu- 
lation)  like  one  of  themselves.  But  no  woman  has  ever 
loved  me,  because  I  have  set  out  to  master  her,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  so. 

There  are  several  reasons  Avhy  women  love  men,  and, 
thank  God,  I  have  no  reason  to  complain.  But  Austin 
Tredennis's  simple  code  admitted  only  of  one.  So  he  set 
himself  to  master  Marion,  as  a  man  might  bite  on  his 
nether  lip  and  promise  himself  either  to  break  in  a  restive, 
high-spirited  colt  or  to  break  his  own  neck. 

But  Tredennis  made  the  mistake  of  showing  his  hand 
too  soon.  The  girl  divined  and  resented  his  too  obvious 
intent.  Pride  and  self-will  rose  insurgent  in  her  breast, 
and  the  affair  resolved  itself  into  a  battle  for  the  mastery. 

The  curious  thing  Avas  that  this  temper  of  obstinacy, 
this  rivalry  of  determinations  goes  on  quite  distinct  from 
the  operations  of  the  heart.  I  am  not  exactly  informed 
what  was  the  state  of  the  affections  of  either  Marion  or 
Tredennis  at  tliis  period,  but  I  am  quite  sure  that  their 
external  attitude  to  each  other  had  nothing  to  do  with 
that  inward  feeling. 

Just  as  last  year,  when  I  was  in  France,  that  great 
kingdom  was  engaged  in  foreign  war  over-seas  with  half 
the  world,  yet  within  her  own  bounds  everything  was 
quiet  as  an  English  rural  parish.  Dreamy  oxen  swayed 
and  tinkled  through  the  streets;  laborers  joyously  brought 
in  the  vintage;  maidens  went  singing  to  the  well.  All 
the  heart  of  the  country  Avas  sound  and  quiet  and  at 
peace,  while  from  over-seas  came  nought  but  wars  and 
rumors  of  wars. 

This,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  was  much  the  estate 
352 


THE    OLDEST    WAY    OF    WOOING 

of  Marion  and  Tredennis  as  they  fronted  one  another 
across  the  narrow,  deep  lily-pools  of  the  Grenoeh  Lane. 

The  afternon  wore  swiftly  away,  and  Tredennis  had 
not  again  moved.  He  lay  with  his  head  settled  low  among 
the  reeds,  tirelessly  watching  the  camp,  and  calculating 
what  were  his  chances  of  being  able  to  carry  off  Marion 
from  the  midst  of  her  Leveller  army. 

It  was  a  wild  scheme.  He  did  not  deny  this,  even  to 
himself.  But  he  had  the  limitless  confidence  of  the  man 
who  succeeds.  And  very  grimly  was  the  mouth  shut — all 
mustacheless  now — as  he  registered  the  mental  oath  that 
the  woman  did  not  live  who  could  afford  to  flout  him — 
Captain  Austin  Tredennis,  of  Ligonier's  Horse.  If  Marion 
would  go  with  him — good.  If  not — also  good.  He  would 
take  her — yes,  like  a  sack  of  corn  across  his  shoulders,  if 
in  no  other  way.  He  would  have  her,  with  her  will  or 
against  it — all  one  now,  when  it  had  come  to  this. 

And  after  a  while  (here  the  smile  was  pleasanter)  — 
after  a  while  she  would  like  it.  She  would  be  glad — this 
without  a  shade  of  coxcombry,  for  of  that  there  was  not  a 
trace  in  the  man's  nature. 

This  Austin  Tredennis  was  the  true  savage,  the  man 
with  original  instincts  but  little  overlaid,  and  that  overlay- 
ing mostly  worn  off  by  the  rough  straits  of  many  cam- 
paigns, so  that  not  only  did  the  method  of  obtaining  a 
wife  by  capture  seem  a  perfectly  natural  one  to  him,  but 
also  he  expected  the  lady  to  like  it! 

It  was  in  this  mood — simple  and  elemental  in  itself,  but 
owing  to  our  polite  education  and  conventions  requiring 
considerable  explanation — that  Tredennis  made  his  prep- 
arations upon  the  Hollan  Isle. 

He  noted  that  at  one  point  of  the  defences,  which 
Marion  visited  every  few  hours,  the  distance  between  the 
posts  was  much  greater  than  elsewhere.  This  was  owing 
to  the  fact  that  the  enemy's  main  advance  was  expected 
from  the  south,  and  also  because  the  northern  side  of  the 
23  353 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

camp  was  protected  both  by  the  Hollan  Isle  and  by  the 
swamps  which  reached  across  to  where  the  old  Eaiders' 
Brig  spans  the  Black  Water  of  Dee. 

Austin  Tredennis  resolved  to  make  the  attempt  when 
the  posts  were  set  for  the  night,  after  supper  and  the  sing- 
ing of  the  Psalm — that  is,  supposing  that  the  routine 
should  be  the  same  as  before. 

Bodily,  Tredennis  was  a  very  strong  man.  His  father 
had  been  a  famous  wrestler,  and  he  himself  had  laid 
many  grown  men  on  their  backs  while  still  a  boy  at  school. 
It  was,  therefore,  with  a  determined  squaring  of  massive 
shoulders  that  he  prepared  to  make  his  attempt.  He  would 
compel  the  girl  to  leave  this  rabble.  She  should  accom- 
pany him — gagged,  if  necessary — to  the  nearest  farm 
where  he  could  obtain  horses,  and  from  thence  to  Kirk- 
cudbright. He  was  resolved  to  go  all  lengths ;  to  carry  off 
the  girl  by  brute  strength  if  necessary,  to  shoot  any  man 
who  stood  in  his  way,  to  steal  any  man's  horses,  and  in 
general  to  risk  all  penalties  of  the  law  and  all  vengeances 
of  enemies,  but,  as  a  result,  to  remove  Marion  out  of  the 
rebel  camp,  or  to  leave  his  bones  to  bleach  on  the  Duchrae 
Bank. 

That  was  Austin  Tredennis's  way  when  in  love,  and  a 
very  good  way  it  is.  Only  every  man  is  not  an  Austin 
Tredennis,  and  even  for  him — but  stay,  the  historian  must 
not  anticipate. 


XLVI 

SILVER    SAND'S    WHISPER 

AT  that  higher  portion  of  the  Leveller's  camp  most  re- 
jljL  mote  from  the  greensward  in  front  of  the  Hollan 
Isle,  where  the  fires  were  earliest  lit  and  the  dinners  mostly 
cooked,  a  small  shelter  of  hewn  boards  had  been  erected. 
Here,  almost  at  any  time  during  the  day  which  Tredennis 
spent  on  the  Isle,  two  persons  might  have  been  seen  in 
consultation,  seated  on  stools  at  the  door  of  the  hut,  or 
standing  with  elbows  resting  amicably  on  the  trunk  of  the 
same  tree.  It  was  Marion  of  the  Isle  talking  to  her  friend 
Silver  Sand.  Within  the  shelter  sat  a  second  girl  busily 
plying  needle  or  knitting-pins,  a  maid  whose  thoughts 
seemed  very  far  away  indeed  from  the  low-toned  conversa- 
tion of  her  companions  without. 

"  I  have  told  you  from  the  first,  Marion,"  Silver  Sand 
was  saying,  "  that  it  will  come  to  nothing !  It  is  bound  to 
come  to  nothing.  You  cannot  thus  put  back  the  wheels  of 
time.  All  the  old  landmarks  will  be  broken  down.  All 
the  ancient  standards  ended — gypsies  and  gypsy  Earls  of 
Little  Egypt,  cottiers'  bit  gardens,  and  the  wide,  free  hills 
where  any  man's  feet  may  tread,  and  any  man's  beasts  may 
graze !  'Tis  done  with,  Marion,  that  old  world,  and  you 
and  I  may  Just  make  up  our  minds  to  submit  with  what 
of  grace  we  can  muster.  It  depends  not  on  our  say-yea 
or  say-nay !    It  is  the  will  of  God  !" 

"  The  will  of  the  lairds,  more  like !"  cried  Marion,  bit- 
terly. "  But  they  shall  not !  No,  they  shall  not,  while 
I  can  keep  these  brave  lads  together — " 

355 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE     MOON 

"That  is  just  it,  though,"  said  Silver  Sand.  "Ye  are 
a  clever  lass,  Marion.  During  seventy  years  of  earth  I 
never  yet  saw  your  like.  But  hark  ye !  Ye  may  drive  off 
a  company  or  two  of  the  King's  redcoats;  ye  may  plunder 
the  lairds  and  weary  the  tenants.  But  there  is  one  thing 
ye  cannot  contend  with — the  winter  weather  that  will 
soon  be  upon  the  land  I" 

"  We  are  prepared  to  suffer  hardships,"  said  Marion, 
firmly. 

"  Doubtless,  doubtless !"  returned  Silver  Sand ;  "  you 
and  some  few,  most  part  of  them  outed  cotters,  and  "  (here 
he  smiled  knowingly)  "  an  odd  rascal  or  two  who  are  here 
for  what  he  can  pick  up.  Ye  will  keep  them;  but  the  rest 
— ah !  they  will  melt  away  like  snow  off  a  dyke  in  the  front 
of  ]\[ay !" 

"  They  are  brave  lads,"  said  ]\[arion,  with  an  affectionate 
glance  down  the  hill,  "  and  I  will  not  believe  it  of  them." 

"  Then,"  continued  Silver  Sand,  "  there  is  another 
thing.  When  I  left  Kirkcudbright  they  were  speaking  of 
releasing  Harry  Polwart.  He  may  be  here  at  the  Duchrac 
Bank  any  day.    Have  you  thought  what  that  will  mean  ?" 

"  Why,  that  if  he  gets  his  way,  he  will  marry  Joyce," 
said  Marion,  turning  half  round  as  if  to  include  the  girl 
in  the  conversation.     Silver  Sand  smiled  indulgently. 

"  Marion,"  he  answered,  "  though  you  have  worn  the 
trews,  ye  think  as  a  woman  still.  It  will  indeed  be  an  ill 
day  when  (if  ever)  Harry  Polwart  marries  Joyce  Faa. 
But  it  will  be  a  worse  for  the  Levellers  of  Galloway  when 
he  sets  foot  among  them  in  the  Duchrae  Wood !" 

"  And  why  ?"  queried  ]\Iarion,  hard  to  be  convinced. 
"  It  was  to  Harry  Polwart  I  first  owed  my  position  here. 
He  it  was  who  vouched  for  me  to  the  Levellers  in  their 
council  in  the  Caldron  of  Ben  Tudor." 

"  Ay,  because  he  knew  that  he  would  never  be  accepted 
as  a  loader  himself ;  therefore  he  hoped  to  rule  through 
you.    But  now — I  have  seen  him  since  his  blindness  and 

356 


SILVER   SAND'S    WHISPER 

imprisonment.  His  speech  is  all  of  blood  and  revenge. 
Either  yon  must  join  with  him  or  he  will  carry  away  from 
yon  all  the  more  vehement  spirits,  and  leave  you  only 
the  men  who  are  willing  to  come  to  terms  with  the  authori- 
ties." 

"  We  shall  see !  We  shall  see,"  said  Marion,  biting  her 
nether  lip,  "  whether  these  lads  will  follow  Harry  Polwart 
or  me !" 

Silver  Sand  smiled,  and  looked  with  undisguised  admira- 
tion at  the  girl's  beautiful  head  thrown  haughtily  back, 
her  finely  cut  nostrils  dilated  by  the  anger  which  sparkled 
in  her  eye  and  quivered  in  her  voice. 

"  On  the  face  of  it,  indeed,"  he  said,  "  the  choice  is 
easily  made.  If  I  were  a  young  man — as  I  am  an  old — it 
would  not  have  taken  me  long  to  decide.  But  remember 
that  Harry  Polwart  has  a  tongue  like  devouring  fire.  He 
will  stick  at  nothing.  Robbery  is  his  trade,  murder  his 
pastime.  Before  he  comes  among  you  to  sow  disorder,  I 
advise  you  to  get  the  better-disposed  of  your  followers  to 
agree  to  a  compromise.  Stop  this  useless  pulling  down 
of  boundary  walls,  this  rooting  up  of  young  plantations. 
The  lairds  are  sick-hearted  with  your  present  success, 
though  it  be  only  for  a  time.  My  friend  Mr.  Patrick 
Heron  will  conduct  negotiations  on  the  best  footing.  He 
tells  me  that  this  Captain  Tredennis,  who  at  present  has 
the  ear  of  the  commander-in-chief,  is  an  honest  man  and 
no  partisan." 

"  With  him  I  will  have  no  dealings,  direct  or  indirect !" 
exclaimed  Marion,  mighty  stiffly. 

(And  it  was  at  this  moment  that  Austin  Tredennis  was 
crossing  the  Black  Water  on  his  way  to  the  position  he 
had  chosen  for  himself.) 

Silver  Sand  glanced  keenly  at  the  girl  as  she  spoke. 

"  You  know  this  man  ?"  he  asked,  softly,  with  a  certain 
silken  intonation  which  was  a  danger  signal  to  those  who 
knew  him  best. 

357 


THE    DAKK    0'    THE     MOON" 

"  It  was  he  who  captured  me  at  Minnigaff,  and  thrust 
me  into  the  prison  of  Maclellan's  Wark,  at  Kirkcud- 
bright." 

"  I  do  not  see,"  said  Silver  Sand,  mildly,  "  how  in  the 
face  of  the  accusations  made  against  you  he  could  well 
have  done  less.  Eemember,  a  soldier  has  his  notions  of 
duty  very  clearly  defined." 

"  Those  of  Captain  Tredonnis  are  certainly  peculiar," 
commented  Marion,  acidly.     . 

Noting  the  tone,  Silver  Sand  thought  he  understood. 
Yet  for  once  that  old  diplomat  was  wrong.  His  idea  was 
that  the  captain  of  horse  had  been  upon  occasion  some- 
what overgallant  in  respect  of  Joyce  Faa,  his  other  pris- 
oner, and  that  Marion,  in  spite  of  her  military  attire,  had 
chosen  to  be  jealous.  His  premises,  therefore,  were  en- 
tirely wrong;  but  the  conclusion  he  drew  was  irreproach- 
able, and  in  its  outcome  equally  fatal  to  the  plans  of  the 
officer  in  question. 

"  You  have  a  crow  to  pick  with  this  Captain  Tredennis, 
then?"  said  Silver  Sand,  bending  towards  Marion  and 
lowering  his  voice. 

"  The  crow  is  part  plucked,  but  there  are  a  few  feathers 
yet  remaining,"  said  ]\Iarion,  smiling. 

"  Then,"  said  Silver  Sand,  "  I  have  something  to  say 
which  may  be  of  interest  to  you." 

And  he  bent  down  and  whispered  for  some  minutes  in 
her  ear. 

At  first  the  commander  of  the  Levellers  listened  a  trifle 
listlessly;  but  presently  vivid  color  flooded  to  her  face, 
her  breath  came  fast,  and  her  fingers  twitched  nervously 
and  pulled  at  the  braid  on  the  blue  military  cloak. 

"  Where  ?"  she  asked,  almost  under  her  breath.  And, 
when  Silver  Sand  had  answered  her,  "  Very  well !"  she 
said,  and,  turning  on  her  heel,  she  walked  abruptly  away. 

Which  is  why  Captain  Austin  Tredennis,  alias  Mr.  Job 
Brown,  cattle-dealer  and  spy,  fording  the  water  to  reach 

358 


SILVER    SAND'S    WHISPER 

the  clump  of  willows  where  he  had  resolved  to  make  his 
attempt  to  carry  off  the  leader  of  the  rebels,  walked  right 
into  the  arms  of  half  a  dozen  stalwart  Levellers,  and,  after 
a  most  valiant  resistance,  found  himself  overpowered  by 
numbers,  and  was  presently  transported,  helpless  and 
blindfolded,  into  the  presence  of  Captain  Dick  of  the 
Isle. 


XLVII 

A   NOISE    IN    THE    CAMP 

IT  was  a  curious  and  unique  situation  for  Marion  and 
Tredennis,  but  they  both  faced  it  with  that  piqued 
dourness  of  temper  which  was  at  once  their  bond  of  simi- 
larity and  the  spur  of  their  clinched  antagonism. 

"  Ecmove  the  napkin !"  commanded  Marion.  "  Loose 
the  bonds  about  his  legs,  that  the  man  may  stand  on  his 
feet !" 

And  there,  in  front  of  a  lighted  camp-fire,  Austin 
Tredennis,  in  his  drover's  habit,  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  the  late  prisoner  of  Maclellan's  Wark.  He  had 
expected  to  meet  her  in  another  fashion,  but  the  heart 
within  him  was  stout  and  undaunted.  And  as  he  looked 
over  the  slender  figure,  the  small  head,  the  clear-cut  spare 
outlines,  he  remarked  to  himself  with  satisfaction,  "  I 
could  have  carried  her !"  It  was  not  his  phm  that  had 
broken  down,  but  the  unforeseeable  that  had  happened. 

Then  after  a  momeiit  he  added,  half  aloud  this  time, 
"  And  I  will  yet !" 

Marion  had  removed  her  military  cloak  of  blue,  and 
stood  erect  in  her  plain  boy's  blouse  and  the  kilted  skirt 
and  boots,  which  met  half-way  to  the  knee.  She  wore  no 
slightest  attempt  at  adornment.  Her  hair,  worn  short  as 
a  youth's,  curled  naturally  from  under  her  blue  bonnet. 
She  held  a  hazel  switch  lightly  in  her  haiul. 

They  were  alone,  for  Marion  had  bidden  Austin's  captors 
to  stand  back.    Silver  Sand  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.    He 

360 


A    NOISE    IN    THE    CAMP 

had  vanished  completely  after  launching  his  whisper  in 
the  girl's  ear. 

"  So,  captain !"  she  said,  scorn  in  her  eyes  and  voice, 
"  your  interest  in  the  poor  Levellers  has  induced  you  to 
visit  them — and  me?" 

Austin  Tredennis  bowed,  but  said  nothing. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  admit  that  you  are  here  as  a  spy  ?" 
she  said. 

"  I  do  not  deny  it,"  said  the  young  man,  calmly. 

"  And  you  know  the  treatment  that  spies  have  to  expect 
when  caught  in  disguise?"  she  continued.  And  then  in  a 
moment  blushed  crimson,  for  she  saw  how  she  had  laid 
herself  open  to  the  crushing  retort — that  he  knew  well 
how  a  certain  person  caught  in  disguise  had  been  treated 
in  the  prison  of  Maclellan's  Wark.  But  his  actual  reply 
astonished  her. 

"  If  I  were  in  your  place,  and  conducting  this  war  on 
ladylike  principles,  I  should  have  them  shot — with  pop- 
guns !"  he  said. 

The  flush  faded,  and  left  the  girl  pale  with  anger. 

"  He  flouts  me  still !"  she  thought.  "  He  scorns  to 
remind  me  of  the  obligations  under  which  I  lie  to  him  for 
twice  giving  me  the  opportunity  to  escape  from  prison !" 

And  aloud  she  said :  "  Strange  that  one  so  wise  and 
powerful  should  yet  be  worsted  by  a  girl,  and  that  the 
troops  he  commands  should  thrice  have  turned  tail  rather 
than  face  a  fire  of  popguns !" 

"  Not  the  troops  I  have  the  honor  to  command,"  cor- 
rected Austin,  with  a  bow. 

"  And  such  a  brilliant  scout !"  continued  Marion ;  "  so 
secret,  so  daring,  so  full  of  excellent  devices  and  clever 
bargainings !  But  yet,  the  poor  fellows  with  the  pop- 
guns had  one  among  them  who  could  trace  your  whole 
course — yes,  Captain  Tredennis,  from  your  first  riding  out 
of  Kirkcudbright  all  the  way  to  the  inn  of  Clachanpluck, 
and  from  the  kitchen  of  the  farm  up  there  on  the  hill  to 

361 


THE    DARK    0'     THE     MOON 

your  lair  on  the  HoUan  Isle !  I  wonder  that  a  veteran 
soldier  should  do  his  work  no  better.  In  short,  this 
paragon  has  turned  out  a  bungler — and  now  where  is 
he  r 

"  Where  he  wishes  to  be,"  said  the  soldier,  succinctly, 
looking  the  girl  straight  in  the  face. 

For  the  fraction  of  a  second  Marion  caught  her  breath, 
and  a  pang  traversed  her  heart.  Tredennis  remained 
silent,  but  keenly  vigilant. 

"  You  have  nothing  to  remind  me  of — nothing  to  ask  ?" 
she  said,  at  last. 

"  Nothing,"  said  the  soldier.  "  Do  with  me  what  you 
will.  I  shall  be  content.  A  log  to  sit  down  upon,  a  platter 
of  the  stew  I  smell  simmering  in  your  pots,  and  permission 
to  roll  a  cigarette — perhaps  you  will  grant  me  these  while 
awaiting  your  gracious  pleasure  ?" 

And,  without  stopping  to  receive  that  permission,  he 
coolly  seated  himself  on  the  stump  of  a  tree,  and  con- 
tinued :  "  Captain  Marion,  if  your  goodness  of  heart  be 
equal  to  your  beauty  of  face,  order  one  of  your  men  to 
halter  me  securely  about  the  feet  and  loose  my  hands,  so 
that  I  may  roll  me  the  little  article  in  question,  the  art 
of  which  I  learned  from  a  Spanish  friend  in  whose  plight 
I  am  at  present.  You  may  even  put  me  on  parole  not  to 
attempt  to  escape.    /  do  not  break  my  word !" 

The  accent  on  the  pronoun  brought  the  red  back  to 
Marion's  face. 

"  You  mean  that  I  break  mine !"  she  said,  fiercely. 
"  You  insult  me,  sir !" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  a  hopeless  gesture. 

"  I  suppose  you  cannot  help  it,"  he  said,  gently,  and  as 
it  were  with  considerable  compassion.  "  Women  will  make 
a  personal  application  of  everything,  even  when  they  rise 
to  be  captains  of  rebels." 

"  I  will  not  stay  to  argue  with  you !"  she  said.  "  You 
shall  remain  in  the  camp  to-night.    I  will  have  you  safely 

3G3 


A    NOISE    IN    THE    CAMP 

guarded,  and  in  the  morning  I  will  let  you  know  my 
pleasure !" 

She  moved  away  with  no  inconsiderable  dignity,  which 
Austin  Tredennis  from  his  tree-stump  appeared  to  regard 
with  a  quiet  but  unfeigned  amusement.  When  she  was 
twenty  yards  away  he  called  after  her. 

"  Captain  Dick  I"  he  said,  aloud,  as  one  soldier  might 
address  another  of  equal  rank. 

Marion  turned  round,  thinking  that  he  was  about  to 
ask  a  favor — perhaps  that  she  would  treat  him  as  a  certain 
young  officer  of  Fencibles  had  been  treated  in  Maclellan's 
Wark. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  the  tears  almost  in  her  eyes,  ready  to 
melt  into  kindness  at  a  word. 

"  Do  not  forget  about  the  cigarettes !"  he  said. 

When  she  reached  her  wattled  booth  Marion  fairly 
stamped  her  foot  with  anger,  and  snapped  out  such  fierce 
monosyllables  at  Joyce,  who  asked  her  for  news,  that  the 
poor  girl,  with  her  thoughts  full  of  Harry  Polwart  and  the 
fear  of  his  coming,  opened  her  great,  dark  eyes  and  sat 
silently  wondering.  Indeed,  at  this  time  Joyce  was  fre- 
quently silent,  for  during  these  days  of  suspense  and  wait- 
ing she  was  fighting  the  hardest  part  of  her  battle. 

It  is  comparatively  easy,  as  it  seems  to  me,  to  will  a 
great  renunciation,  a  little  more  difficult  to  make  it  irre- 
vocable, but  hardest  of  all  to  fill  in  the  dreary  waste  of  days 
that  follow  inevitably — days  of  which  every  several  hour 
is  like  an  eternity,  when  the  morning  cry  of  the  tortured 
heart  is  still,  "  0  God,  would  that  it  were  evening !"  and 
its  evening  petition,  "  0  God,  that  it  were  morning  !" 

But  Joyce  Faa  had  not  much,  longer  to  wait  when  Ma- 
rion came  in,  angry  and  baffled,  from  her  first  interview 
with  the  prisoner. 

Marion  had  pulled  off  one  of  her  top-boots,  and  was 
thoughtfully  engaged  in  the  unromantie   occupation   of 

363 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

greasing  it  to  keep  out  the  wet  of  tlie  Duehrae  swamps  and 
October  dews,  when  a  noise  to  the  northward  of  the  camp 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  two  girls.  Joyce  stopped 
her  knitting  and  listened.  Marion  pulled  on  her  boot 
again  hastily,  and,  rising  up,  thrust  a  pistol  into  her  belt. 

"  Has  the  attack  come  at  last  ?"  she  thought,  and  was 
not  sorry,  for  she,  too,  had  grown  a  little  nervous  with 
waiting. 

But  the  ear  of  Joyce  was  truer,  and  the  fear  in  her  heart 
led  her  to  hear  in  the  tumult  that  which  was  inaudible  to 
Marion. 

She  stood  with  her  hand  pressed  against  her  side,  pale 
as  ashes. 

"  He  has  come  !"  she  said.  "  They  are  crying  aloud  the 
name  of  '  Harry  Polwart ' !    Aid  me,  Mother  of  God !" 

It  meant  much  to  both  the  women — most  immediately 
to  Joyce,  of  course;  but  ]\[arion  had  also  reason  to  be 
anxious,  remembering  the  warnings  of  Silver  Sand. 

Looking  out,  a  scene  of  wildest  and  most  turbulent  re- 
joicing lay  immediately  beneath  their  eyes.  The  blind 
gypsy,  mounted  on  the  back  of  a  plundered  nag,  was  being 
brought  into  the  camp  with  wild  shoutings  and  the  reek  of 
multitudinous  hasty  torches.  Strange  and  sinister  he 
looked — his  face  unshorn,  his  matted  locks  hanging  down 
to  his  shoulders,  his  feet  bare  and  encased  in  great  wooden 
stirrups  half-filled  with  straw — above  all,  his  blind  eyes 
shining  with  strange,  ruddy  gleams  in  the  reflection  of  the 
torchlight. 

But  his  face  turned  every  way  as  he  came,  as  if  his  ear 
was  listening  for  one  voice  that  he  did  not  hear.  He  called 
aloud,  but  for  the  first  time  or  two  the  words  were  drowned 
in  the  jubilation  of  his  followers.  Then,  seeing  his  lips 
moving  and  his  hands  imploring  silence,  they  desisted  sud- 
denly, and  the  voice  of  the  blind  man  was  heard. 

"  Joyce  Fan  !    Where  is  she  ?    I  want  Joyce  Faa  \" 
364 


A    NOISE    IN    THE    CAMP 

And  Joyce,  with  her  features  ashen  pale  even  under  the 
red  glow  of  the  pine-root  torches,  moved  forward  to  meet 
him.  She  put  her  hand  in  his,  saying,  simply,  "  I  am  here, 
Harry !" 

Then  there  came  a  great  and  sudden  illumination  of  joy 
upon  the  face  of  the  stricken  man. 

"  I  knew  it !"  he  cried.  "  Joyce  Faa  speaks  no  lie  !  She 
promised,  and  she  will  perform — yes,  even  to  Harry  Pol- 
wart,  the  blind  gypsy,  she  will  not  break  her  word !" 

And  Joyce,  with  her  hand  still  in  his,  helped  the  man 
to  dismount,  as  a  servant  may  help  a  master.  For  that 
is  the  custom  of  the  folk  of  Egypt,  and,  when  she  could 
speak,  she  said,  gently,  "  I  will  keep  my  promise !" 


XLVIII 

THE    MINISTER   OF    BALMAGHIE 

THEN",  while  they  gave  him  to  eat,  after  Joyce  Faa  had 
washed  his  face  like  the  face  of  an  infant,  Harry  Pol- 
wart  told  them  the  story  of  his  journeying. 

"  Three  cruel  days  have  I  been  on  the  road,"  he  said, 
"  and  the  first  day  and  night  I  thought  within  me  that  I 
would  never  win  through,  but  fall  over  some  linn  or  preci- 
pice. I  heard  the  river  rush  and  roar  beside  me,  and  the 
wind  sough  among  the  trees.  But  the  folk  of  Kirkcud- 
bright and  the  parts  adjoining  are  dogs  and  accursed !" 

(And  here  he  spat  with  vehemence  upon  the  ground.) 

"  Though  I  was  blind  and  hungry,  and  craved  like  one 
asking  alms,  none  would  lend  me  a  hand  or  put  me  on 
my  way.  The  very  bairns  (may  fiends  rive  their  throats  !) 
set  the  dogs  at  me  and  threw  stones  as  I  passed  by,  crying, 
*  Go  on,  blind  Egyptian !    Go  on,  half -hanged  man!' 

"  And  I  laid  me  down  somewhere,  and  for  an  hour  slept 
like  the  dead.  Then,  because  the  night  was  the  same  to 
me  now  as  the  day,  I  rose  and  stumbled  on.  Thrice  I  fell 
and  bruised  myself.  Nay,  Joyce,  do  not  look !  It  is  not 
good  to  look.  But,  by  the  dread  God,  I  will  have  ven- 
geance for  all — ay,  and  more — many  vengeances ! 

"  A  day  and  a  night  I  found  none  to  pity.  But  in  the 
morning — I  knew  it  was  morning,  because  I  felt  the  sun 
strike  warm  on  my  face  and  dry  the  dew  on  my  bare  breast 
— a  lout  at  a  farm  loaning  cried  at  me,  giving  me  the  name 
of  a  beast.     And,  with  my  face  held  down,  I  gat  slowly 

366 


THE    MINISTER    OF    BALMAGHIE 

near  him,  as  if  I  stumbled  stupidly  upon  my  way.  And  I 
listened  when  he  laughed  loudest — so  very  hard  I  listened. 
He  was  a  great  oaf,  eating  at  a  piece  of  rye-bread,  and 
laughing  as  he  ate.  Then,  when  I  knew  by  the  smell  of 
the  stable  that  I  was  within  striking  distance  of  him, 
I  drew  my  gully-knife  and  rushed  upon  him !  The  yell  he 
gave,  I  declare,  could  have  been  heard  at  Kirkcudbright ! 
And  in  his  haste  to  run  he  let  the  loaf  fall.  In  a  moment  I 
was  on  it,  like  a  famished  dog.  Then,  fearing  that  he 
might  raise  the  country-folk  with  their  pitchforks  upon 
me,  I  ran  for  it  up  the  road,  keeping  the  sounding  of  the 
river  ever  on  my  left  hand,  for  that  was  all  the  guide  I  had. 
For,  by  good  luck,  I  was  at  the  time  upon  a  piece  of 
pleasant  turf,  without  rocks,  green,  and  kindly  to  the  feet. 

"  Then,  as  I  sat  by  the  side  of  a  little  burn,  and  dabbled 
my  sore  feet  in  the  caller  water,  I  ate  of  the  yokel's  bread. 
It  was  good  bread  and  sweet  in  a  famished  man's  mouth, 

"  And  as  I  bode  there,  wishing  for  some  one  to  pass  by 
that  I  might  rob  or  put  a  knife  in,  I  heard  the  sound  of  a 
horse's  feet,  not  cantering  or  trotting,  but  only  going  at  a 
dainty  siccar  priest's  pace,  as  the  saying  is. 

" '  Good-day  to  you,  honest  man,'  said  a  voice.  '  You 
are  eating.    Have  )^ou  given  God  thanks?' 

" '  Priest,'  answered  I,  for  I  knew  the  lilt  of  these 
cattle,  '  if  there  be  a  God  of  Thieves,  then  I  have  given 
God  thanks.     For  I  stole  this  loaf.' 

"  In  saying  this  I  thought  to  have  him  at  an  advantage, 
and  if  he  had  been  one  of  the  ordinary  priests — faith,  he 
might,  in  addition,  have  gotten  my  knife  in  his  throat. 
For  what  with  the  stoning  and  the  dogs,  I  own  that  I  was 
scarce  fit  to  be  spoken  to. 

"  *  Well,  my  friend,'  says  he,  riding  nearer,  as  I  could 
hear  by  the  horse's  hooves  on  the  turf,  '  ye  look  as  if  you 
had  need  o'  a  sheaf  of  loaf-bread,  however  ye  might  come 
by  it.  But  if  you  Avill  come  with  me  to  the  manse  of 
Balmaghie,  Mary  Gordon,  mv  Mafe,  will  give  you  a  better 

367 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

loaf  than  that,  without  the  fash  and  danger  of  stealing 
it.' 

"Then  I  told  him  the  tale  of  the  yokel  on  the  fence, 
whereat  he  laughed,  and  for  the  life  of  me  I  could  not 
think  what  sort  of  priest  or  parson  this  might  be. 

"  '  Why,'  says  he,  '  your  feet  are  sore,  poor  man.  ]\Iount 
ye  lip  on  Donald,  my  daidling  pony  here.  He  is  a  lazy 
beast,  and  needs  somewhat  to  wake  him  up.  As  for  me,  I 
grow  fat,  and  it  will  do  me  good  to  walk  by  the  beast's 
side  some  part  of  the  way  to  Glenlochar.  We  will  make 
Donald  carry  double  at  the  crossing,  I  wot.  And  for  the 
rest,  I  shall  be  glad  o'  company !' 

"  So,  as  it  was  to  Balmaghie  that  I  wanted  to  go,  I 
thanked  him  kindly,  and  said  no  word,  but  mounted  on 
the  beast.  And  as  he  trudged  by  the  pony's  side  he  spoke 
to  me  of  the  weather  and  the  crops,  and  then,  at  long  and 
last,  of  the  state  of  my  soul's  health.  Of  that  I  had  no 
good  to  report,  but  at  last  I  was  as  faithful  as  he,  and 
told  him  no  lies.  Then  he  warned  mo  of  the  fate  of  the 
ungodly,  the  wrath  to  come,  and  suchlike  things,  and  I 
hearkened  him  without  ever  so  muckle  as  laying  my  hand 
upon  the  hilt  of  my  dirk.  This  is  what  it  is  to  be  in  the 
company  of  a  good  man !  'Tis  a  pity !  One  is  apt  to 
waste  opportunities  for  conscience  sake ! 

"  Now  we  came  to  a  place  called  the  Rhone  House,  not 
far  from  Kelton  Hill,  where  the  great  fair  is,  and  were 
riding  caigily  along  when  all  at  once  there  comes  a  caval- 
cade of  riders  down  the  brae. 

"  '  Good-day,  dominie,'  cries  one.  '  Ye  are  in  very  pretty 
company  this  day.  That  man  is  a  kenned  thief,  and  was 
half-hanged  besides.    What  think  ye  of  that?' 

"'I  think  but  little  of  it.  Colonel  Gunter,'  says  my 
friend,  who  was  keen  of  tongue,  as  if  it  had  been  sharpened 
with  scythe-sand.  '  If  thief  he  be — why,  my  Master  com- 
panied  with  publicans  and  sinners,  and  at  the  last  they 
whole-hanged  Him  between  two  of  them !' 

368 


THE    MINISTEE    OF    BALMAGHIE 

"  '  Your  tongue  is  witty,  minister,'  said  Gunter,  '  but 
let  me  tell  you,  sir,  he  is  an  outlaw,  and  there  are  pains 
and  penalties  for  entertaining  such !  Take  care  that  you 
do  not  subject  yourself  to  them !' 

" '  I  snap  my  fingers  at  you  and  your  penalties,'  says  the 
minister,  cracking  them  merrily  at  the  word.  '  Twenty 
year  I  have  been  an  outlaw  myself.  For  I  was  cast  out 
by  my  brethren  and  familiar  friends.  You  sent  your  sol- 
diers to  oust  me  at  their  bidding !  You  yourself,  Colonel 
Gunter,  came  riding  with  the  sheriff  that  braw  August 
day  ye  may  yet  mind  off.  But  did  ye  stir  the  outlaw  ?  By 
the  faith  delivered  to  the  saints,  not  by  so  much  as  an  inch. 
John  MacMillan  was  minister  of  Balmaghie  then.  He  is 
minister  of  Balmaghie  still,  and  sets  whoso  he  will  on  his 
beast — thief  or  sodjer,  red-coat  or  black-coat,  rag  or  tatter, 
saint  or  sinner,  outlaw  or  inlaw,  barbarian  Scythian,  bond 
or  free !  Awa'  wi'  ye  !  Take  that  word  hame  to  the  Eras- 
tian  master  that  sent  ye !' 

"  And  with  that  he  fairly  turned  on  his  heel,  cried, 
'  Gee-up,  Donald,  lazy  beast !'  and  so  left  them  standing 
there  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  without  a  word  where- 
with to  answer  him. 

"  Then  as  we  went  I  told  him  the  thing  that  had  been 
in  my  heart — to  fall  upon  him  unawares  with  my  dirk,  and 
to  steal  his  beast — but  that  after  he  had  spoken  so  I  could 
not  for  very  shame.  And  he  said,  '  Poor  man,  poor  man ! 
Give  thanks  to  the  God  that  withheld  your  hand  from  the 
shedding  of  blood !' 

"  So  I  told  him  that  I  had  lived  long  and  served  my 
master  faithfully.  But  that  now,  being  blind,  I  was  in  a 
manner  handicapped  and  disabled  for  the  outlaw's  mode  of 
life. 

"  '  Poor  man,  poor  man  !'  he  says  again ; '  there  is  muckle 

to  be  said  for  you.    And  I  would  be  the  last  man  to  deny 

that  blood-letting  is  not  very  necessary  upon  occasion.     A 

little  lively  persecution,'  says  he,  '  would  set  the  spur  in 

2*  369 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

the  flanks  of  a  wheen  time-serving  ministers  that  I  ken  o' !' 
Though  what  he  meant  by  that  I  know  not. 

"And  the  short  and  the  long  of  it  is  that  I  told  him 
where  I  desired  to  journe}^,  though  not  my  purpose  in 
doing  so,  and,  says  he,  '  I  cannot  go  with  you  to-day,  for  I 
have  a  burying  over  by  at  Camp  Douglas,  and  this  is  the 
day  of  my  week-day  discourse  upon  that  most  comforting 
text  in  the  Prophet  Ezekiel,  the  thirtieth  chapter  and  the 
fourteenth  verse :  "  I  will  make  Pathros  desolate  and  will 
set  fire  to  Zion,  and  will  execute  judgments  in  No !"  But 
I  will  send  my  brother  with  you.  You  shall  ride  on  Don- 
ald here,  and  the  morn's  mornin'  I  will  come  to  the  camp 
in  the  Duchrae  Wood.  It  is  in  my  parish ;  therefore  it  is 
my  bounden  duty  to  rebuke  the  ungodly  and  call  the 
sinners  to  repentance.  And,  by  what  I  hear,  they  are  in 
some  need  of  the  Gospel  preached  in  the  camp  of  the  Lev- 
ellers o'  Galloway!'" 

While  he  was  speaking  Harry  Polwart  had  held  Joyce's 
hand,  and  now  he  leaned  across  and  whispered  a  word  in 
her  ear  that  made  all  her  face  suddenly  flame. 

"  No,  no  !'*  she  faltered ;  "  not  so  soon  !  I  could  not 
be  ready — indeed  I  could  not !" 

"  You  were  ready  once  before,  Joyce,"  said  Polwart,  "  in 
your  old  gown  and  kirtle,  the  last  that  I  saw  or  shall  ever 
sec  you  wearing !  Wliat  need  have  you  now  of  more  prepa- 
ration than  in  the  garden  of  the  Manse  of  IMinnigaff  ?" 

But  before  she  had  time  to  reply  one  of  the  younger 
men,  perhaps  desirous  to  be  officious,  told  how  they  had 
taken  a  spy  on  the  outskirts  of  the  camp — a  soldier,  most 
likely  an  oHlcer.  In  an  instant  there  passed  a  most  terri- 
ble and  terrifying  change  over  the  countenance  of  Harry 
Polwart.  While  he  had  been  telling  the  tale  of  his  escape 
his  expression  had  softened  as  he  spoke  of  the  minister's 
kindness,  but  now  all  that  was  in  an  instant  smitten  away. 
His  face  became  like  to  the  cruel  countenance  of  a  fiend  in 
some  antique  print,  like  those  my  father  brought  back 

370 


THE    MINISTER   OF   BALMAGHIE 

with  him  from  Germany.  He  swore  a  dreadful  oath, 
which  thrilled  even  the  more  hardened  of  his  hearers,  and 
caused  Joyce  to  withdraw  her  hand  with  a  quick  thrill  of 
apprehension. 

"Let  me  see  him!"  he  cried,  forgetting  for  a  moment 
his  condition.  "  If  none  of  you  dare  touch  him — I,  Harry 
Polwart,  with  my  own  hand,  will  cut  the  liver  out  of  the 
sneaking  hound !  Ah !  if  only  it  should  prove  to  be  the 
scoundrel  who  arrested  me  and  caused  us  all  this  trouble ! 
But  that  is  too  good  to  be  hoped  for !" 

At  this  point  Marion  struck  in. 

"  I  would  bid  you  remember,"  she  cried,  "  that  I  com- 
mand here,  and  have  taken  the  case  of  this  man  into  my 
own  hands.  I  am  Captain  of  the  Levellers,  by  free  elec- 
tion, and  so  long  as  I  am  in  charge  there  shall  be  no  divided 
authority  here !" 

The  dark  face  of  the  gypsy  took  on  a  look  of  savage 
malevolence  at  this  interference. 

"  Very  well,  captain,"  he  said,  "  I  will  say  no  more  of 
this  in  the  moan  time!  But  to-night  I  claim  that  your 
prisoner  be  well  guarded,  and  that  to-morrow  he  be 
brought  before  the  Council  of  the  Levellers,  when  I  may 
have  a  word  or  two  to  say.  If,  as  you  say,  you  command, 
it  was  I  who  gave  you  your  authority.  And  those  who 
gave  may  also  take  away  !" 

"Possibly!"  said  Marion,  peremptorily.  "But  in  the 
meanwhile,  and  while  the  authority  is  mine,  be  good  enough 
to  obey  promptly  I  Go  to  the  quarters  provided  for  you 
with  the  men  !    Joyce  shall  remain  here  with  me  !" 

And  as  he  rose  to  retire  the  gypsy  turned  his  bone-white 
eyes  upon  the  two  girls,  and  his  shattered  countenance 
smiled  with  a  ghastly  semblance  of  mirth. 

"  Good-night,  ladies,"  he  said,  with  mock  courtesy.  "To- 
morrow, at  this  hour,  by  the  help  of  the  minister  of  Balma- 
ghie,  Joyce  shall  obey  me — and,  by  the  help  of  the  Council 
of  Levellers,  so  may  you,  my  brave  Dick  of  the  Isle  !" 

371 


XLIX 

THE  ROUND  TOWER  OF  APPLEYARD 

I  HAVE  kept  ni3^self  out  of  the  story  for  some  time,  con- 
scious alike  of  the  poverty  of  my  equipments  for  the 
part  of  hero,  and  also  to  give  my  readers  some  rest  from 
my  predilection  for  making  excuses  concerning  my  con- 
duct— of  which  they  have  already  had  more  than  enough 
in  the  course  of  this  narrative. 

On  the  last  occasion  I  started  out  with  some  flourish 
of  trumpets  to  perform  a  heroic  action,  which,  however,  re- 
solved itself  into  riding  to  Kirkcudbright  in  order  to  watch 
another  man  do  one.  But  now  I  come  in  earnest  to  my 
own  share  in  the  affair,  which  I  shall  endeavor  to  trace 
with  precision,  and  yet,  I  trust,  without  prolixity. 

And  first,  upon  Joyce  going  away,  I  did  a  second  wise 
action.  The  first  of  these  I  count  that  of  telling  her  my 
love  frankly  and  freely — the  second  that  I  took  into  my 
councils  my  father.  I  have  mentioned  him  often,  but 
never  with  that  loving  particularity  which  he  deserves. 
For,  first  he  hath  told  his  own  story  in  such  a  fashion 
that  I,  with  my  stiffer  scholastic  manner,  may  not  hope  to 
equal.  All  his  life  my  father  hath  had  his  own  strokes 
of  humor,  his  own  quiet  tastes,  his  own  particular  method 
of  letting  other  persons'  business  alone — this  last  my 
father's  speciality,  and  a  most  admirable  one,  as  I  see  it. 

On  the  day  that  I  took  my  last  farcAvcll  of  Joyce  (as  I 
thought)  in  the  outer  cave-chamber  of  the  Aumry,  and  as 
soon  as  Davie  Veitch  had  returned  from  ferrying  over  the 

372 


THE    EOUND    TOWER    OF    APPLEYARD 

maids  Joyce  and  Marion,  I  betook  me  to  Orraland.  I 
found  my  father  in  his  library,  busy  with  his  Latin,  which 
he  had  retaught  himself  during  these  last  years,  in  order, 
as  he  said,  to  take  the  taste  of  county  business  out  of  his 
mouth.  He  loved  the  historians  especially,  his  favorite 
being  Livy,  who,  as  he  said,  gave  you  most  for  your  money. 
And  he  wrote  and  printed  a  little  fragment  in  the  style 
of  that  admired  author,  descriptive  of  a  conference  upon 
roads  and  bridges,  in  which,  in  the  finest  Livian  Latin, 
Colonel  Gunter,  my  Lord  Kirkham,  with  several  others, 
were  taken  off  to  the  life.  This  trifle  so  pleased  the  late 
Principal  Carstaires  that  he  inquired  for  an  additional 
copy  to  send  to  a  very  exalted  person  indeed,  with  whom 
he  was  on  terms  of  intimacy. 

And  this,  it  is  said,  had  no  small  effect  in  bringing  about 
the  making  of  my  father  a  baronet,  over  the  heads,  as  it 
M^ere,  of  so  many  richer  and  more  important  people. 

In  the  library  of  Orraland,  therefore,  I  opened  my  mind 
to  my  father,  and  asked  his  advice. 

His  first  words  were  these :  "  Have  you  said  aught  of 
this  to  your  mother?" 

I  told  him  no. 

"  Then  do  not,"  he  answered. 

I  did  not  venture  to  ask  his  reason  for  this  prohibition, 
but  took  it  to  be  that,  as  on  the  former  occasion  when  she 
attempted  to  interfere  on  my  behalf,  the  generous  and 
daring  nature  of  my  dear  mother  was  liable  to  lead  her 
into  difficulties  even  greater  than  those  which  she  took  it 
upon  her  to  solve. 

In  person  my  father  was  a  little  beyond  the  middle 
height,  his  hair  abundantly  sprinkled  with  gray,  when,  as 
in  his  study,  he  was  without  his  powdered  wig.  Humor 
lurked  in  his  quiet  gray  eyes.  Being  brought  constantly 
into  comparison  with  my  sprightly  mother,  he  passed  in 
most  companies  for  rather  a  silent  man.  Advancing  years 
had  made  him  a  little  disinclined  for  exercise,  and  love 

373 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

of  reading  kept  him  perhaps  too  much  in  his  library. 
But  when  he  could  be  aroused  to  exertion  no  man  was 
more  active,  and,  as  the  present  occasion  proved,  more 
daring. 

I  spoke  to  him  of  Joyce,  and  he  encouraged  me  to  speak 
my  mind  freely,  keeping  up  a  running  comment  of  kindly 
nods  and  elicitory  questions. 

"  Educated  abroad,  was  she  ?  The  mother  of  good 
family — yes,  your  own  mother  told  me  of  these !  Beautiful 
as  the  morn — Avell,  your  mother  used  other  words,  but  I 
took  the  idea  well  enough !"  (By  which  I  understood  that 
my  mother  had  told  him  that  she  was  somewhat  disap- 
pointed in  my  poor  Joyce's  looks,  as  might  well  be  the  case, 
considering  where  and  after  what  she  had  first  set  eyes  on 
her.) 

When  I  had  told  my  father  everything,  down  to  my  last 
interview  with  Joyce  in  the  Aumry — though  upon  the  de- 
tails of  that  I  did  not  condescend  or  particularize — he 
sat  a  long  while  silent,  murmuring  words  and  phrases  to 
himself,  as  his  way  was  when  turning  anything  over  in 
his  mind. 

"  Bless  the  boy— foolish  lad— foolish  lad  !  Hum— hum ! 
Well,  I  pleased  myself,  why  should  not  he?  I  have  it- 
no,  that  will  not  do  !" 

Then  he  whistled  a  bar  or  two  of  "The  Cameronian 
Cat,"  which,  being  a  religious  man  and  no  Jacobite,  I  had 
never  heard  him  do  before.  But  in  the  midst  he  checked 
himself  and  looked  across  at  me. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  set  on  this  lass  ?"  he  said.  "  You 
have  considered  all  the  difficulties  of  the  situation  ?" 

"I  think  I  have,  father,"  I  made  answer.  "Indeed, 
most  of  these  last  come  from  my  having  considered  too 
much,  as  Silver  Sand  will  tell  you.  He  said  I  had  but  a 
poor  appearance,  and  that  you  in  your  young  days  would 
have  done  quite  otherwise." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it— I  do  not  at  all  doubt  it !"  quoth 
374 


THE  BOUND  TOWEE  OF  APPLEYARD 

my  father.    ''  1  did  a  great  many  rash  and  foolish  things 
when  I  was  a  young  man." 

"  Such  as  marrying  my  mother,"  I  suggested,  jesting 
with  him. 

"  No,  Maxwell,  no !"  he  said,  more  moved  than  I  could 
have  imagined.  "  I  neVer  did  a  wiser  thing  than  that.  It 
was  just  the  hypocrisy  of  old  age  which  made  me  speak  so 
just  now.  If  I  were  twenty,  and  had  it  all  to  do  over  again 
— why,  I  should  do  just  as  I  have  done.  God  forgive  us 
old  meni  We  calmly  propose  physic  and  plasters  for  the 
cure  of  young  bodies  and  souls,  which  we  ourselves  would 
have  thrown  to  the  dogs  when  we  were  their  age.  Marry 
the  lass,  if  you  can  get  her,  say  I !  Your  mother  was  a 
farmer's  daughter — nay,  more,  she  was  Will  Maxwell's  sis- 
ter— and  where  is  there  a  lady  in  the  county  this  day  to 
compare  with  her?" 

And  my  father  looked  so  glad  and  so  proud  that  I  could 
have  taken  him  in  my  arms  for  it. 

"  And  so  may  your  Joyce,  if  she  is  all  you  say,"  he  went 
on,  "  and  of  that  I  would  not  attempt  to  unconvince  you 
if  I  could.  The  question  is  how  to  get  her  out  of  the  hands 
of  that  rascal  Polwart.  'Tis  a  devil's  pity  they  could  not 
hang  him  when  they  had  him  safe  in  Kirkcudbright  gaol !" 

Then  he  mused  a  little,  again  falling  into  the  seductive 
drone  of  the  "  Cameronian  Cat." 

"Ah,  Maxwell!"  he  said,  presently,  sighing  a  little, 
"  thirty  years  ago  we  would  Just  have  taken  down  a  musket 
and  sword,  mounted  a  good  gray  mare,  and — "  Here  he 
stopped  suddenly. 

"  What,  father?"  I  asked  him. 

"  Well,  I  am  an  elder  in  the  Kirk  of  Scotland,  and  it 
doth  not  become  me  to  say  what  we  might  have  done. 
But  times  change — yea,  the  very  heavens  over  us,  though 
not,  as  sayeth  the  Latin  author,  the  mind  of  man.  The 
rendering  is  not,  I  know,  allowable,  but  the  truth  of  the 
apothegm  is  indisputable. 

375 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE    MOON 

*'  If  we  give  this  half-hanged  fellow  enough  rope  he  will 
soon  do  the  deed  wholly,"  he  went  on.  "  The  mischief  is 
that  we  have  not  the  time.  You  may  desire  to  marry 
Hector  Faa's  daughter,  but  it  were  a  different  matter  to 
wed  Harry  Polwart's  widow." 

I  did  not  wholly  grant  that,  I5ut  very  naturally  my 
feelings  were  with  him.  We  must  prevent  that  consum- 
mation by  every  means  within  the  power  of  man. 

"  I  think,"  he  said  at  last,  drumming  on  the  table  with 
his  fingers,  "  that  before  we  decide  anything  you  should 
allow  me  to  put  some  part  of  this  before  Silver  Sand.  I 
have  done  few  things  in  my  life  without  consulting  him, 
and  these  few  I  have  generally  regretted," 

I  could  do  no  other  than  agree,  but  I  warned  my  father 
that  I  did  not  think  Silver  Sand  had  any  good  impression 
of  me.  But  he  only  smiled,  and  answered,  "  What  Silver 
Sand  seems  to  think,  is  very  seldom  what  Silver  Sand  does 
think.  You  may  depend  upon  it  that  if  he  used  any  harsh- 
ness of  look  or  speech  to  the  lad  he  received  into  his  arms 
an  hour  after  he  was  born,  and  has  cherished  ever  since  as 
a  son,  he  had  the  excellcntest  of  reasons  for  his  severity." 

Now  this  saying  of  my  father's  greatly  surprised  me. 
For  though  I  bore  his  name,  I  never  knew  that  Silver  Sand 
had  any  particular  regard  for  me.  Indeed,  since  he  had 
taught  me  how  to  fish  with  the  angle,  to  shoot  straight, 
and  to  ride  a  kicking  beast,  he  had  secured  to  take  little 
further  notice  of  me. 

When  my  father  came  back  from  his  interview  with 
Silver  Sand,  with  whose  uncertain  whereabouts  he  was 
generally  acquainted,  I  could  see  at  a  glance,  even  before 
he  dismounted  from  his  horse  at  the  lych-gate  of  Orraland, 
that  he  was  wondrously  heartened.  And  from  whatso- 
ever cause,  from  that  very  hour  my  father  was  as  eager  in 
the  matter  of  Joyce  Faa  as  I  was  myself — that  is,  consid- 
ering that  his  interest  in  the  matter  was  of  a  somewhat 
less  personal  sort. 

376 


THE   ROUND    TOWEE    OF   APPLEYAED 

It  fell  out  by  chance  that  my  mother  was  gone  to  Craig 
Darroch  with  Grisel  for  a  few  days,  thinking  doubtless 
that,  with  the  two  maidens  Marion  and  Joyce  safe  at 
the  Aumry,  it  was  not  likely  that  aught  of  importance 
would  take  place.  So  that  my  father  and  I  were  left  more 
liberty  and  freedom  of  preparation  at  Orraland  and  Isle 
Eathan  than  if  my  mother  had  been  there.  For,  as  by  this 
time  all  may  see,  she  ever  loved  to  be  the  head  and  fore- 
front, the  fount  and  origin  of  all  incoming  and  outgoing, 
equipage  and  provend. 

The  next  morning  my  father  took  me  to  see  Silver  Sand, 
His  ways  had  ever  been  a  mystery  to  me — as,  indeed,  they 
were  to  most  people.  He  would  sit  by  the  fire  at  Orraland 
habited  as  well  as  any  gentleman,  and  good  company  for 
the  best,  as  late  as  ever  any  would  sit  with  him.  But  he 
did  not  sleep  beneath  our  roof,  nor  yet  in  any  of  the  office- 
houses.  Since  my  father  and  mother  removed  to  their 
new  mansion  he  was  hardly  ever  seen  at  Isle  Eathan.  Yet 
when  we  youngsters  were  all  saying  good-night,  or  after 
a  talk  with  my  father  over  a  parting  tass  of  eau-de-vie. 
Silver  Sand  would  wrap  his  great  shepherd's  plaid  about 
him  in  such  a  fashion  as  completely  to  hide  the  manner 
of  man  he  was,  and  step  out  into  the  empty  fields,  the 
driving  rain,  or  biting  sleet,  for  all  the  world  like  a  gentle- 
man going  to  his  bedchamber. 

This  habit  of  his,  though  I  had  observed  it  from  my 
earliest  infancy,  yet  I  had  never  grown  accustomed  to. 
And,  to  make  the  matter  more  mysterious,  several  times 
when  at  Craigdarroch  with  my  Uncle  Will,  after  partaking 
of  the  roisterous  cheer  of  that  establishment.  Silver  Sand 
would  take  down  his  plaid  from  the  ceiling-bars  above  the 
kitchen  fire,  where  it  had  been  drying,  wrap  it  about  him, 
and  let  himself  out  serenely  into  the  black  night,  no  man 
regarding  him,  and  none  offering  to  accompany  him. 

As  a  child  I  had  often  pictured  him  in  winter  with  feel- 
ings of  peculiar  content,  as  I  lay  in  my  little  cot  and 

377 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

heard  the  wind  drive  the  snow  hard  against  the  window- 
panes.  I  would  hug  myself  with  a  warm  comfort,  to  think 
of  him  battling  on  and  on  through  the  storm,  and  then  at 
his  journey's  end  entering  a  palace  of  snow  and  ice,  like  a 
picture  I  had  once  seen  in  M3mheer  Vanderspuye's  Travels 
into  Russia  and  Tartary,  of  which  my  father  had  a  tall 
copy  in  the  French  language,  with  many  delightful 
gravures  done  on  copper. 

It  was,  therefore,  with  exceeding  pleasure  that  I  gat 
me  on  my  pony  to  accompany  my  father  on  his  visit  to 
Silver  Sand  in  his  own  dwelling-place.  For  even  when  a 
young  man's  mind  is  full  of  his  own  love  troubles,  he  does 
not  object  to  a  few  little  adventures  by  the  way.  Or  at 
least  so  it  was  with  me,  though  perhaps  I  am  as  little 
normal  in  this  as  in  everything  else. 

My  father  wasted  no  time  in  speech,  but  mounted  and 
rode  furiously,  as  was  his  custom  when  on  business,  mostly 
for  eagerness  to  be  done  therewith  and  to  get  back  to  his 
books-,  but  now,  as  I  thought  within  me,  with  pure  desire 
to  serve  me,  his  son.  Ah,  there  were  few  fathers  like 
mine! 

I  should  like  well  to  enter  into  the  particularity  of  that 
ride,  but  suffice  it  to  say  that  we  clattered  over  the  hard 
sand  and  shingle  of  the  Orraland  shore,  went  more  slowly 
over  the  rugged  foothills  of  Screel,  and  presently  bore 
away  to  the  east  across  the  lairy  Kirkmirren  flats.  After 
a  long,  breathing  gallop  through  lands  covered  with  short 
sea-grass,  and  bloomed  over  even  now  by  the  stone  crop 
and  blue  maritime  holly,  my  father  dismounted  in  a  little 
wood,  and  tied  his  beast  to  a  tree  in  a  place  very  retired 
and  secret. 

"  Let  them  have  their  nose-bags  for  a  little  here,  while 
we  go  forward,"  he  said.  "  Our  good  Silver  Sand  does  not 
love  overly  many  horse-tracks  about  his  abode." 

Then,  having  thus  arranged  matters  with  satisfaction 
to  himself  and  the  beasts,  my  father  took  along  the  first 

378 


THE    EOUND   TOWER   OF   APPLEYARD 

of  the  broken-down  dykes  (for  we  were  now  off  his  lands), 
and,  making  a  detour  to  the  right,  emerged  suddenly  upon 
an  old  gray  tower,  apparently  ruinous  and  wholly  desolate. 
On  three  sides  it  was  surrounded  by  hills,  for  the  most  part 
thickly  wooded  with  natural  scrub,  but  on  the  other, 
towards  the  east,  the  ground  was  more  open.  The  tower 
looked  upon  a  green  valley,  through  which  a  little  lane 
ran,  or  rather,  as  it  were,  loitered  and  lingered  with  a 
temperate  gladness.  Beyond  that,  again,  a  high  hill  rose 
up  abruptly  and  sheltered  the  tower  from  the  sea.  There 
were  the  ruins  of  a  considerable  farm  town  near  by ;  but  all 
was  now  deserted — only  in  the  midst  was  an  ancient  tower 
standing  up,  called,  as  my  father  now  told  me,  the  Round 
Tower  of  Appleyard.  I  remembered  that  I  had  seen  it  on 
a  boyish  ramble  many  years  ago,  but  that,  being  alone,  I 
had  taken  to  my  heels  and  run  home  at  some  fancied  noise 
which  I  heard — a  sound  as  of  a  hollow  knocking  upon 
wood  high  up  in  the  tower — the  pixies  making  some  one's 
coffin,  as  I  then  believed.  So  I  ran  home  at  full  speed, 
lest  the  coffin  should  prove  to  be  mine,  and  the  little  pechts 
should  catch  me  and  fit  me  into  it  forthwith. 

My  father  and  I  went  up  to  the  outer  door,  a  rude  and 
apparently  frail  construction  of  boards  nailed  together, 
as  it  had  been  to  keep  out  cattle,  but  yet  resisting  my 
utmost  strength,  and,  as  my  father  showed  me  afterwards, 
that  of  a  dozen  stronger  than  I. 

After  waiting  awhile  and  seeing  nothing  moving  far 
or  near,  my  father  removed  a  square  stone  at  the  apex  of  a 
little  arrow-slit,  and  a  stout  cord  was  revealed.  This  he 
pulled  vigorously,  and  the  door  immediately  swung  back 
on  large  hinges.  I  saw  then  that  it  was  strengthened  with 
iron  within,  and  that  the  rude  railings  outside  had  simply 
been  added  to  deceive  the  eye  of  any  curious  traveller  who 
might  pass  that  way. 

Then,  having  secured  the  door,  in  an  uncanny  kind  of 
silence  we  clambered  perilously  upward.    The  stairs  were 

379 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

in  no  very  excellent  repair,  and,  of  course,  being  shut  with- 
in such  narrow  bounds,  they  twisted  every  few  steps,  so 
that  I  never  saw  more  than  my  father's  feet  as  he  went 
upward  with  admirable  agility. 

At  the  top  we  came  to  another  door,  or,  rather,  our 
progress  seemed  to  be  blocked  entirely.  But  on  my  father 
giving  a  peculiar  knock  with  his  foot  a  trap-door  opened 
overhead.  Whereupon,  setting  his  foot  on  a  step  at  his 
right  hand  in  a  well-accustomed  manner,  he  hoisted  him- 
self into  a  quaint  little  circular  room,  doubtless  in  part 
a  legacy  from  that  period  of  hiding  and  riding  when  there 
was  scarcely  a  family  in  all  Galloway,  highland  and  low- 
land, unprovided  with  some  such  shelter. 

But  this  mansion  of  Silver  Sand's  had  been  greatly  im- 
proved by  himself,  and  certainly,  even  in  this  crisis  of  my 
affairs,  deserves  a  brief  description,  for  I  bestowed  a  some- 
what close  attention  upon  it. 

As  a  swallow's  nest  is  made  in  a  chimney,  so  Silver 
Sand's  chamber  of  shelter  on  the  Solway  shore  was  con- 
structed in  the  topmost  story  of  the  ancient  round  tower 
of  Appleyard.  The  roof  was  of  wood,  of  recent  construc- 
tion, but  strongly  jointed  and  well  pitched  to  keep  out  the 
winds  and  rains,  both  of  which  were  wont  to  put  some  pith 
into  their  Avork  up  there. 

After  Silver  Sand  had  taken  me  by  the  hand  in  token  of 
amity,  I  had  time  to  look  about  me.  At  one  side  was  a 
little  bricked  fireplace,  where  on  a  fire  of  sticks  Silver 
Sand  did  his  simple  culinary  needs.  A  low  bed  set  deep 
into  the  wall  occupied  the  eastern  wall,  with  a  narrow 
window  opening  above.  For  Silver  Sand,  like  a  true  son 
of  the  Orient,  loved  to  turn  his  head  in  that  direction  when 
he  slept,  and,  rising,  to  look  his  first  waking  look  towards 
the  sunrise. 

I  need  not  detail  the  conversation  which  followed.  In 
brief,  the  substance  of  my  tale  and  my  hopes  were  put 
before  Silver  Sand.    I  feared  at  first  that  he  might  make 

380 


TPIE    BOUND    TOWER   OF   APPLEYAED 

some  allusion  to  my  intolerable  stupidity  and  tardy-foot- 
edness  at  the  Shiel  of  the  Dungeon.  But,  with  his  usual 
admirable  courtesy,  Silver  Sand  spared  me  all  reference 
to  that  most  shameful  episode.  And  for  this  I  thanked 
him  in  my  heart. 

Now  it  was  this  interview  which  sent  Silver  Sand  into 
the  hill-country  of  Galloway,  and  brought  him  in  good 
time  to  the  farm-kitchen  of  the  Upper  Crae,  and  after- 
wards to  the  camp  of  the  Levellers  in  the  Duchrae  Wood. 


L 

THE    WIFE   OF    BOANERGES 

EVERY  day  after  our  visit  to  the  Eound  Tower  of 
Appleyard,  my  father  and  I  sent  Davie  Veitch  to 
Kirkcudbright  to  bring  us  word  if  Harry  Polwart  were 
yet  set  at  liberty.  Each  night  he  came  back  with  the  news 
that  he  was  still  detained  on  this  pretext  or  that,  remanded 
for  examination,  investigation,  authentication.  But  at  last 
the  time  came  when  he  must  be  set  free.  No  real  reason 
for  keeping  him  in  prison  had  presented  itself,  and  as  the 
blind  gypsy  would  speak  no  word,  good  or  bad,  he  could 
not  be  condemned  out  of  his  own  mouth. 

At  last  one  night  in  the  final  week  of  October  word  came 
to  us  at  our  House  of  Orraland  that  the  devil  was  loose. 
Harry  Polwart  had  been  released  that  morning  at  ten 
o'clock,  and,  as  we  anticipated,  he  had  at  once  turned  his 
face  northwards  in  the  direction  of  the  Levellers'  camp. 
Davie  had  even  seen  him  stoned  out  of  the  burgh  gates 
by  a  score  or  two  of  the  idle  loons  who  hang  about  the 
port. 

So  that  it  behooved  us  to  be  brisk,  and  fortunate  it  was 
for  us  that  my  mother  was  so  far  from  home  as  at  her 
brother's  house  of  Craigdarroch,  or  I  doubt  not  she  would 
either  have  tried  to  prevent  our  going  at  all,  or,  if  worsted 
in  that,  she  would  have  made  no  bones  about  accompany- 
ing us — I  fear  me  to  the  utter  undoing  of  our  expedi- 
tion. 

But,  as  it  was,  we  rode  very  quietly  away,  leaving  Ep- 
382 


THE    WIFE    OF    BOANERGES 

pie  in  tears  at  the  great  gate  of  Orraland,  and  Sammle 
tying  his  shoe-strings  to  hide  his  emotion  down  by  the 
stables. 

We  were  both  well  armed  and  equipped  for  the  journey, 
and  my  father  had  filled  his  purse  with  good  gold  and 
silver,  for,  as  he  said,  ''  Some  things  are  better  paid  for 
than  fought  for." 

By  a  curious  chance  it  was  to  the  Manse  of  Balmaghie 
that  my  father  was  now  directing  our  steps,  or,  rather, 
the  hoofs  of  our  good  beasts.  I  will  not  again  risk  being 
tedious  by  inserting  any  details  of  our  journeyings. 
Suffice  it  that  my  father  told  me  how  he  and  John  Mac- 
millan  had  been  good  friends  at  the  College  of  Edinburgh, 
where  a  certain  young  Pat  Heron  had  had  the  good  fort- 
une to  be  of  service  to  the  raw  lad  from  the  moorland- 
farm  town,  and  that  on  more  than  one  occasion. 

"  And  though,"  said  my  father,  meditatively,  as  he 
ambled  along  on  his  beast  at  a  pace  more  befitting  his  feel- 
ings than  mine,  "  there  are  some  things  in  his  later  pro- 
ceedings that  I  cannot  approve,  I  understand  well  the 
buckram-stiff  righteousness  that  drove  him  to  these  de- 
visive  courses.  And,  by  heavens,  sir,  if  I  had  been  in  his 
place,  and  a  man  given  to  disturbing  myself  about  kirk 
rights,  covenanted  heads,  and  so  forth — I  dare  say  I 
should  have  done  pretty  much  as  he  has  done.  For  John 
Macmillan  was,  indeed,  very  hardly  served  by  his  brethren. 
But  mind  you,  Maxwell,  do  not  for  the  life  of  you  begin 
to  argue  with  him.  For  a  dourer,  more  opinionated  limb 
of  Geneva  than  this  same  John  Macmillan  of  Balmaghie 
is  not  to  be  found  through  the  length  and  breadth  of 
Scotland." 

"  And  why,  then,"  I  asked  him,  "  did  they  cast  him  out 
of  the  kirk?" 

My  father  lifted  up  his  hand  with  a  kind  of  alarmed 
hopelessness. 

"  Before  we  enter  into  that  question,"  he  cried,  "  I 
383 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

think  we  had  best  see  to  the  saving  of  your  lass  out  o'  the 
hawk's  claws !" 

The  welcome  that  we  met  with  from  the  minister  of 
Balmaghie  left  nothing  to  be  desired  in  the  way  of  hearti- 
ness. The  manse,  which  (though  long  deposed)  he  still 
occupied,  was  a  little  two-storied  house  of  five  rooms  or 
so,  cowering  in  a  hollow  surrounded  by  trees,  while  the 
kirk  itself  sat  high  upon  a  little  hill  above  the  Dee  Water, 
looking  pleasantly  down  the  vale  and  out  across  the  gentle 
flood  like  a  benediction  done  in  whitewash. 

Yet,  as  I  well  knew,  it  had  seen  troublous  days — yea, 
and  that  very  manse  also  in  which  we  were  so  kindly  re- 
ceived had  stood  its  sieges,  and  played  its  part  in  the  life- 
story  of  John  Macmillan  and  Mary  Gordon  of  Earlstoun, 
his  noble  and  beautiful  wife.  For  though  the  minister 
had  gone  forth  (as  has  elscAvhere  been  related  of  him, 
under  the  thin  disguise  of  another  name,*  expecting  never 
to  return,  yet  his  folk,  ill-satisfied  therewith,  compelled 
him  ere  long  to  bring  his  young  wife  back  to  the  manse  of 
Balmaghie.  There  children  were  born  to  them,  and  from 
this  small,  white  house  in  the  bield  of  the  Kirk  Hill,  the 
minister  of  Balmaghie,  a  true  standard-bearer  of  the  Blue 
Banner,  rallied  for  the  last  time  the  folk  of  the  convenant 
beneath  the  flag  which  had  taken  the  breeze  so  gallantly  at 
Drumclog  and  gone  down  in  blood  at  weary  Bothwell  Brig. 

But  at  that  time  I  knew  nothing  of  these  things  and 
cared  less.  For  my  father,  though  willing  enough  to  tell 
us  stories  of  the  martyr  days  of  Peden  and  Renwick,  of 
Cameron,  Cargill,  and  the  hill-folk,  yet  showed  clearly 
that  there  was  something  to  be  said  for  the  government  as 
well.  And  after  he  had  done  with  his  tale  he  would  say: 
"  Now  this  is  what  happened;  you  can  make  up  your  minds 
for  yourselves." 

•  The  Standard-Bearcr,  by  S.  R.  Crockett.      (Methuen  &  Co.) 

384 


THE    WIFE    OF    BOANERGES 

But  I  do  not  know  that  either  Grisel  or  I  did  make  up 
our  minds  to  anything,  save  perhaps  that  we  wanted  our 
father  to  tell  us  yet  another  tale — which,  indeed,  he  could 
do  incomparably  well. 

We  found  Mary  Gordon,  the  wife  of  John  Macmillan 
and  the  daughter  of  the  notable  Sir  Alexander  Gordon — 
the  Bull  of  Earlstoun,  as  he  was  called — to  be  a  most 
gracious  and  beautiful  lady,  as,  indeed,  rumor  had  ever 
most  truly  reported  of  her. 

But  we  found  nothing  of  that  pride  in  her  lineage  with 
which  she  hath  been  not  unfrequently  attainted.  Cer- 
tainly she  did  the  modest  honors  of  the  manse  of  Bal- 
maghie  with  such  dignity  that  her  manners  would  not 
have  shamed  a  prince's  palace.  But  I  see  nought  out  of 
place  in  that.  For  she  was  gracious  to  the  beggar  at  the 
door  and  to  my  father — the  laird  of  Orraland  and  Isle 
liathan — ay,  and  not  more  so  to  the  one  than  to  the  other, 
save  only  in  this  that  Patrick  Heron  had  been  her  hus- 
band's friend.  But  I  am  sure  that  if  it  had  been  the  beggar 
who  had  done  the  kindness,  she  would  have  bidden  him 
into  the  parlor  and  done  to  him  even  as  to  us. 

"  And  what,  Patrick,"  cried  the  minister,  heartsomely, 
"  brings  you  and  your  lad  thus  far  from  your  cosey  down- 
sitting  and  new-built  mansion  so  late  in  the  year?" 

My  father  looked  across  to  me  for  permission,  and  began 
to  tell  Mr.  Macmillan  of  my  imprisonment  and  all  that 
had  flowed  from  it.  And  seeing  me  blush  and  put  my  head 
upon  my  palm  like  a  girl,  the  gracious  woman,  who  had 
retired  to  the  farther  end  of  the  apartment  that  the 
gentlemen  might  talk  more  freely,  laid  down  her  broidery 
and  came  and  sat  beside  me.  Nay,  when  my  father  spoke 
of  Joyce  Faa,  of  our  love  and  her  promise  (gently  shading 
away  all  blame  from  me,  and  showing  me  merely  as  a  true 
lover  in  danger  of  losing  his  beloved),  Mary  Gordon  bent 
over  and  kissed  me  gently  and  motherly  on  the  brow,  as 
one  woman  might  kiss  another  for  comfort  in  trouble, 
26  ^'  385 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

whispering,  "  I  understand.     Do  not  be  cast  down.     All 
will  yet  be  well  I" 

And  so  have  women  done  to  me  ever,  when  I  was  in 
any  distress — all  of  them,  that  is,  save  one,  but  she  only 
after  I  had  made  love  to  her  as  a  man  ought  to  do  to  the 
woman  he  adores. 

But  as  my  father  told  his  tale  a  strange  expression — a 
kind  of  expectant  dread — stole  over  the  features  of  the 
minister  of  Balmaghie,  usually  so  kind  in  expression,  and 
yet  so  eagerly  belligerent.  Presently  he  held  up  his  hand 
to  my  father  to  stop. 

"  Patrick,"  he  said,  "  I  know  something  of  this.  God 
guide  me  aright  into  what  I  ought  to  do  !  Listen !  Before 
you  go  further  I  must  tell  you  what  I  know." 

And  he  told  the  tale,  with  me  sitting  there  in  the  manse 
parlor,  and  with  the  hand  of  his  wife  lying  on  my  wrist 
in  a  kind  of  caress — all  the  story  of  his  going  to  Kirkcud- 
bright upon  his  necessities,  and  of  his  meeting  with  the 
blind  gypsy  Harry  Polwart. 

"  And  the  mischief  of  it  is,"  he  cried,  striking  the  palm 
of  his  hand  upon  his  brow  with  an  orator's  gesture  of 
despair,  but  quite  natural  to  him,  "  I  have  promised  to 
marry  the  fellow  to  Joyce  Faa  to-morrow  in  the  camp  of 
the  lievellers  down  there  by  the  Duchrae  Wood !" 

For  a  long  minute  we  simply  stared  at  each  other  dumb- 
ly. I  would  have  risen  to  my  feet,  but  the  pressure 
of  Mary  Gordon's  hand  on  my  arm  held  me  gently  in  my 
place,  as  one  who  would  say,  "  Hush !  let  me  regulate  this 
matter !" 

"  But  now, of  course,you  will  not?"  said  his  wife,looking 
over  at  the  minister  with  a  steady  appeal  in  her  dark  eyes. 

John  Macmillan,  as  it  seemed  to  me  at  the  time,  rather 
avoided  his  wife's  regard,  and  it  was  my  father  to  whom 
he  replied. 

"  Patrick,"  he  said,  "  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  I 
would  not  do  for  you — except  break  my  word !" 

386 


THE    WIFE    OF    BOANEEGES 

"  John,"  interposed  his  wife,  before  my  father  had  time 
to  reply,  "  I  have  often  heard  you  break  out  upon  the 
sort  of  person  who  is  always  ready  to  do  everything  in 
the  world  for  his  friends  except  the  thing  those  friends 
happen  to  want." 

"  Ah,  ]\rary !"  said  the  minister,  looking  at  her  more 
gently  than  one  would  have  expected  of  so  vehement  and 
Boanergian  a  man,  "  you  do  me  an  injustice.  I  said  not 
that  in  this  case  I  should  refuse  to  help  my  friends  to  the 
limit  of  my  powers.    But  let  me  think  what  these  are." 

"  Has  the  intention  of  marriage  been  proclaimed  in  the 
parish  kirk  in  due  form  ?"  said  my  father,  hoping,  I  think, 
to  furnish  him  with  an  excuse. 

"  I  fear  me  much  that  I  cannot  found  upon  that,"  said 
Macmillan,  a  little  ruefully.  "In  my  journeyings 
throughout  Scotland  it  has  been  my  custom  to  dispense 
with  such  proclamation  among  the  scattered  peoples  to 
whom  I  have  been  called  to  minister." 

"  But,"  said  his  wife,  "  surely  this  case  is  very  different. 
The  man  is  a  malefactor,  and  you  are  delivering  the  girl, 
who,  as  we  hear,  loves  another,  to  a  life  of  shame  and 
misery." 

"  The  objection  might  delay,  but  cannot  prevent,  the 
marriage  so  long  as  the  woman  declares  herself  to  be 
willing,"  said  the  minister. 

He  thought  a  little,  knitting  his  brows  and  frowning 
upon  the  ground,  as  was  his  custom,  while  the  rest  of  us 
sat  silent  and  expectant,  Mary  Gordon's  fingers  pressing 
the  back  of  my  hand  with  a  kind  of  unspoken  but  hopeful 
pity. 

At  last  the  minister  voiced  his  resolve. 

"This  will  do,"  he  said.  "  Hitherto,  I  have  heard  but 
one  story.  Now  I  have  also  heard  the  other.  I  will  ac- 
cordingly make  it  my  duty  to  go  to  the  camp  of  the  turbu- 
lent and  there  make  further  inquiry.  Thereafter,  accord- 
ing to  the  satisfaction  of  my  conscience,  I  will  act." 

387 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

"  But  not  to-morrow  ?  You  will  not  do  anything 
hastily?"  said  his  wife,  watching  him  narrowly. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  after  a  pause,  "  I  think  enough 
has  been  brought  before  me  to  render  at  least  delay  neces- 
sary." 

"And  no  other  minister  can  be  got?  You  are  sure?" 
I  cried  the  words  out  eagerly. 

The  stately  woman  looked  at  me  with  a  kind  of  indul- 
gent pity  for  my  ignorance. 

"  None  dare  go  near  the  rebel  camp  except  my — except 
Mr.  Macmillan,"  she  said. 

"  But,  sir,"  said  my  father,  with  obviously  increased 
respect,  "  you  must  consider.  You  place  your  life  in 
danger !    You  have  a  wife  and  family  !" 

"  Trouble  not  yourself  about  that  matter,"  said  Mac- 
millan. "  Not  a  hair  of  my  head  shall  fall  to  the  ground 
without  my  Father.  And  as  to  wife  and  family,  sayeth  it 
not  in  David,  in  a  certain  place,  '  I  have  been  young  and 
am  now  old,  yet  have  I  never  seen  the  righteous  forsaken 
nor  his  seed  begging  bread  '  ?" 

It  was  a  wonder  and  a  pleasure  to  me  to  see  a  man  so 
clear  upon  his  call  and  mission,  that  he  could  apply  the 
words  of  Scripture  to  his  own  case  with  such  sincerity  and 
confidence. 

Then,  as  he  uttered  these  words,  his  wife  rose  from  the 
chair  where  she  had  been  sitting  by  me  and  went  over 
beside  her  husband,  by  whom  she  continued  to  stand  for 
the  rest  of  the  conference,  her  hand  resting  upon  his 
shoulder.  And  I  do  not  wonder.  For,  though  I  am  a  man 
that  has  had  the  good  or  bad  fortune  to  have  had  most 
of  his  heroisms  done  for  him,  I  can  yet  admire  the  naked 
article  in  another  all  the  more  for  that. 

After  this  the  talk  foil  mostly  on  the  dead  state  of 
religion  in  Scotland,  of  the  indifference  of  ministers  com- 
fortable in  their  kirks,  of  professors  at  ease  in  Zion,  with 
other  pregnant  matters  which  I  scarcely  cared  to  follow — 

388 


THE    WIFE    OF    BOANERGES 

for  the  fear  of  the  morrow  lay  heavy  on  my  heart.  I  felt 
myself  in  the  grasp  of  circumstance,  and  powerless  to  do 
anything.  Tredennis  in  my  shoes  might  have  been  in 
reality  equally  impotent ;  but  then,  at  least  he  would  have 
attempted  to  carry  off  his  sweetheart  upon  his  shoulders, 
as  the  Eomans  did  the  Sabine  virgins  or  Samson  the  gates 
of  Gaza.  And  till  the  very  moment  when  his  failure  was 
apparent  he  would  have  been  lifted  above  evil  chance  by 
the  belief  that  he  would  succeed.  But  I,  born  with  far  less 
strength  of  body  and  power  of  will  than  he,  yet  saw  the 
fnore  clearly,  and  knew  that  we  both  imagined  a  vain 
thing.  It  was  this  instinct  and  overkeen  perception 
which  oftentimes  took  from  me  the  power  to  act  with  vigor 
— whereby  I  lost  not  only  the  credit  of  being  a  man  of 
forlorn  hopes,  but  also  that  ninety-ninth  chance  by  which 
the  forlornest  of  hopes  sometimes  succeeds. 

But  to  return.  In  a  kind  of  daze  I  remember  taking 
part  in  the  function  of  family  worship ;  also,  with  a  curious 
clearness,  that  the  tune  was  Coleshill,  and  that  my  father, 
in  the  effort  to  do  his  best,  sang  most  villanously  out  of 
tune. 

Then,  as  we  were  bidding  good-night,  I  mind  that  the 
minister  put  his  hand  upon  my  father's  shoulder. 

"  Patrick,"  he  said,  "  as  a  guest  in  my  house  and  a 
friend  of  many  years,  I  would  pray  the  favor  of  a  word 
with  you  as  to  the  state  of  your  soul." 

My  father  nodded,  for  he  was  ever  a  man  that  took  the 
bitter  with  the  sweet.  And  I  saw  the  minister  look  at  me 
also,  but  his  wife  shook  her  head.  "  No,"  I  heard  her  say, 
"  not  to-night,  John." 

And  for  that  courtesy  of  excuse  I  thanked  her  in  my 
heart. 

But,  marvel  of  marvels,  when  my  father  came  to  bed, 
entering  to  find  me  sitting  looking  out  at  the  tombstones 
in  the  graveyard,  their  flat  table-tops  glistening  white  in 
the  moonlight — lo !  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes.    And  these 

389 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

he  did  not  try  to  conceal,  as  I  would  have  expected  of 
him. 

"  Do  not  be  repelled  by  a  rough  seeming,  Maxwell,"  he 
said ;  "  ye  lie  down  in  a  good  man's  house  this  night.  And, 
verily,  the  effectual  fervent  prayer  of  a  righteous  man 
availeth  much.    I  own  myself  greatly  cheered." 

And  with  that  he  laid  him  down  to  sleep. 

Whether  he  did  indeed  sleep  or  no  I  cannot  tell.  But 
as  for  me,  I  sat  up  on  my  window-seat,  not  even  removing 
my  clothes,  and  thought  on  the  great  mystery  of  con- 
science, and  how  sternly  it  is  held  by  some,  how  lightly  by 
others.  Here  were  two  as  far  apart  as  Joyce  Faa,  the  out- 
law's daughter,  gypsy-born  and  Papist-bred,  and  John 
Macmillan,  the  Cameronian  saint — each  ready  to  spend 
their  lives  that  they  might  keep  their  charge.  While  as 
for  me — well,  I  will  not  dishonor  a  faithful  man's  house 
by  telling  what  I  would  have  done  in  cither  of  their  places. 

That  this  business  of  conscience  Avas  not  a  matter  of 
religious  denomination  or  profession,  I  could  see  very  well, 
nor  of  upbringing,  or  even  of  good  and  godly  counsel. 
Finally,  I  decided  that  few  men  (and  hardly  any  women  at 
all)  have  Effectual  Consciences,  but  that  those  thus 
troubled  possess  several  rolled  in  one. 

And,  having  arrived  at  this  sapient  conclusion,  I  threw 
off  my  coat  and  stretched  myself  on  the  bed  beside  my 
father. 


LI 

HIGH   CONTKACTING   PARTIES 

THE  light  was  coming  redly  from  the  east  when  I  woke. 
I  got  up  hastily,  and,  putting  on  my  travelling-cloak, 
for  the  air  was  shrewd  even  in  the  little  thatched  guest- 
chamber,  I  let  myself  out  of  the  never-locked  door  of  the 
manse.  The  grip  of  late  October  was  in  the  air.  There 
were  heavy  clouds  all  over  the  sky,  which  grew  rippled  and 
irregular  towards  the  east,  across  which  lay  a  great,  solemn 
bar  of  blood-red  sky.  There  was  no  hoar-frost,  the  clouds 
having,  as  it  were,  held  it  up.  I  stood  a  moment  shivering 
in  the  cold-drawing  air  from  off  the  water,  the  wind  that 
comes  before  the  sun. 

The  little  kirk  of  Balmaghie  is,  as  I  have  already  men- 
tioned, set  on  a  hill,  and  from  where  I  stood  its  roof  and 
low  tower  were  clear  cut  against  the  crimson  dawn.  So 
red  was  the  sky  that,  by  contrast,  the  very  tombstones  took 
on  a  kind  of  unearthly  green,  and  as  the  shadowing  trees 
waved  their  dead  leaves — or,  shaking  them  off,  sent  them 
balancing  down — what  with  the  flaming  light  above  and 
pale  efflorescence  beneath,  it  seemed  as  if  the  spirits  of 
the  dead  went  wavering  upward  from  their  tombs,  gibber- 
ing with  filmy  hands  and  moaning  as  they  went. 

There  are,  indeed,  moods  of  morning  far  more  terrible 
than  those  of  the  blankest  midnight — perhaps  premoni- 
tory of  the  shuddering  rigors  which  shall  take  us  when 
the  pall  of  the  future  is  removed  and  That  Day  dawns 
upon  us — remote,  awful,  glimmering  with  those  infinite 

391 


/ 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

possibilities  that  are  only  revealed  to  us  in  moments  of 
mortal  sickness. 

As  I  thus  watched  the  dawn,  and  my  soul  was  mysteri- 
ously disturbed  within  me,  my  feet  turned  of  their  own 
accord  in  the  direction  of  the  little  hill-set  kirk  of  Bal- 
maghie.  I  turned  its  eastern  side  that  I  might  find  the 
gravestones  of  the  two  martyr  Hallidays,  of  which  the  mis- 
tress of  the  manse  had  told  me  the  night  before. 

By  this  time  the  red  color  in  the  sky  had  mounted  full 
to  the  zenith.  The  sun  was  transmuting  the  lower  cloud- 
bars  to  fantastic  islands  of  purest  gold.  The  whole  pageant 
of  the  dawn  stood  upon  tiptoe,  and  there,  all  of  a  sudden, 
calming  my  harassed  and  fearful  soul,  I  was  aware  of  the 
broad  Dee  Water  slipping  along,  a  sea  of  glass  mingled 
with  fire,  as  it  seemed,  straight  from  the  throne  of  God 
itself. 

As  I  looked  past  the  gable-end  of  the  little  kirk  my  heart 
stood  still,  for  I  saw  a  man  kneeling,  like  Daniel,  with  his 
face  to  the  east.  It  was  Macmillan  himself,  and  there  in 
the  dawning  he  was  praying  to  his  Master.  I  will  not  set 
down  his  prayer,  though  I  can  recall  much  of  it  at  this 
moment.  It  is  sufficient  that  he  prayed  for  clear  light 
and  guidance  to  do  the  will  of  God  that  day  as  became  a 
good  soldier.  Moreover,  he  prayed  for  my  father,  for  me, 
for  Joyce,  and — most  of  all,  I  think — for  poor  Harry 
Polwart. 

I  slunk  away,  ashamed,  yet  somehow  better  in  my  soul 
that  T  had  thus  spied  on  a  good  man's  devotions,  and,  as 
it  were,  intercepted  the  words  that  were  meant  for  no 
ear  of  flesh,  save  One. 

I  expected  to  see  the  minister  at  breakfast ;  but  when 
I  asked  for  him  his  wife  replied  that  he  had  gone  out  early, 
having  broken  his  own  fast  from  the  cupboard,  as  was  his 
constant  custom. 

Nor  did  Mary  Gordon  seem  anxious  or  harassed  about 
her  husband  for  so  much  of  that  day  as  we  spent  with  her, 

392 


HIGH    CONTEACTING    PARTIES 

but  went  about  her  household  cares,  called  the  bairns  and 
handmaids  in  to  religious  exercise,  which  she  courteously 
asked  my  father  to  conduct.  This  he  did  in  few  words, 
but  with  a  fitting  solemnity  that  made  me  prouder  than 
ever  of  him. 

Having  risen  from  our  knees,  we  went  out,  after  having 
taken  leave  of  our  hostess,  promising  to  come  back  for  news 
that  night  about  eight  of  the  clock. 

"  Do  so,"  replied  that  gracious  and  Christian  lady. 
"  My  husband  will  doubtless  be  returned  by  that  time." 

Then  my  father  murmured  a  text  or  quotation,  of  which 
I  only  heard  the  words,  "  All  things  work  together  for 
good."  I  could  not  at  the  instant  remember  the  rest,  but 
resolved  to  look  it  out  on  the  first  occasion  when  I  should 
find  myself  alone  with  a  Bible. 

As  soon  as  we  had  crossed  the  road  which  extends  along 
the  river-side  going  north,  my  father  set  his  face  towards 
certain  heathery  mountains  of  a  dark  purple  color  which 
stretched  immediately  in  front,  not  high,  but  very  rugged 
and  steep. 

"These,"  he  said,  "are  called  the  Black  Dornels,  and 
our  road  lies  over  them.  Now,  Maxwell,  if  you  desire  to 
save  your  lass,  I  have  but  one  word  to  say  to  you — leg  it !" 

And  though  Patrick  Heron  of  Eathan,  was  none  so 
young  as  he  had  been  when  he  courted  my  mother,  I  soon 
found  that  I  had  all  I  could  do  to  keep  up  with  him. 
As  we  breasted  the  hill  the  weather  grew  ever  the  gloomier, 
and  though  it  was  but  the  end  of  October,  it  seemed  almost 
cold  enough  to  snow.  We  were  soon  up  among  rocks  and 
heather,  and  more  than  once  a  fox  started  out  at  our  very 
feet  and  coursed  away  over  the  hill,  with  an  occasional 
disdainful  look  backwards  over  his  shoulder,  and  a  curl 
of  red  and  insolent  brush. 

We  soon  gained  the  summit  of  the  ridge  we  had  been 
ascending  (for  we  had  not  crossed  the  highest  point,  but 
somewhat  to  the  left),  and  there  the  clouds  seemed  close 

393 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

above  us,  and  in  color  and  texture  not  unlike  unbleached 
linen  cloth.  Still,  it  was  clear  enough  down  below,  and  we 
could  discern  under  the  level  cloud  canopy,  as  under  a 
tent,  all  that  troubled  and  turbulent  square  of  country 
popularly  known  as  the  Headend  of  Balmaghie,  girt  by 
waters  on  three  sides,  the  long  lochs  of  Ken  and  Grenoch 
parallel  on  either  hand,  the  Black  Water  of  Dee  joining 
these  two  together  to  the  north,  and,  as  it  were,  penning 
this  centre  of  disaffection  and  rebellion  within  severe  and 
natural  confines. 

And  though  there  was  spread  out  before  us  as  on  a  map 
a  marvellous  prospect,  yet  we  halted  not  for  that,  but  with 
a  speed  hardly  to  be  expected  from  a  leader  who  took  ex- 
ercise so  moderately  as  my  father,  we  plunged  down  a  series 
of  rocky  screes  and  scaurs  to  the  little  farm  of  Craig,  which 
sits  on  its  green  shelf  with  a  few  scanty  fields  about  it,  a 
house  of  constant  kindliness  and  the  home  of  kind  hearts 
ever  since  I  have  known  it — as,  indeed,  it  remains  to  this 
day. 

My  father  walked  straight  up  to  the  low-thatched  dwell- 
ing-house, and,  opening  the  door  without  ceremony,  he 
walked  into  the  flagged  kitchen.  Three  men  were  sitting 
about  the  fire  with  their  toes  turned  to  the  blaze.  The 
first  of  these  was  Silver  Sand;  the  second  a  tall,  heart- 
some,  grave,  heather-mixture  sort  of  a  man,  James  Cam- 
eron by  name,  the  farmer  of  Craig,  as  I  rightly  judged. 
There  was  shy  but  evident  pleasure  in  his  eye  as  he  rose  to 
welcome  my  father.  I  had  known  that  look  well  ever 
since  I  was  old  enough  to  go  about  with  Patrick  Heron. 

"  Proud  am  I  to  see  ye,  Laird  Rathan,"  said  the  honest 
farmer.  "You  and  me  are  both  somewhat  more  bowed  in 
the  shoulder  since  the  time  when — l)iit  maybe  it's  better 
giein'  that  bit  maitter  the  go-by  for  the  present." 

I  think  he  meant  the  great  raising  of  the  country  against 
the  raiders,  and  for  the  moment  I  saw  not  the  necessity 
for  silence.     I  was  standing  with  my  back  to  the  third 

394 


HIGH    CONTEACTING    PARTIES 

man  of  the  company,  who  had  leaned  so  far  within  the 
chimney  seat  that  his  face  was  completely  hidden  from 
view.  Silver  Sand  was  already  on  his  feet,  and  as  I  turned 
me  about  to  greet  him  I  saw  that  the  third,  sitting  there 
as  calm  and  collected  as  an  elder  in  the  kirk,  was  no  other 
than  Hector  Faa  himself ! 

For  a  moment  I  was  dumfounded.  I  had  no  more  use 
or  backbone  in  me  than  a  bundle  of  rushes. 

But  the  next  moment  Hector  Faa  had  risen,  and  was 
bowing  to  my  father  with  dignity  and  as  became  a  gentle- 
man of  an  ancient,  if  somewhat  irregular,  house,  as  indeed 
he  was. 

]\Iy  father  also  bowed  with  grave,  severe  dignity,  and 
looked  from  one  brother  to  the  other,  as  if  he  had  not 
expected  to  meet  his  ancient  enemy  there. 

"  This  is  the  man  who  alone  can  help  us,"  said  Silver 
Sand,  turning  to  my  father,  upon  seeing  that  neither 
made  any  attempt  to  shake  hands. 

However,  I  had  no  such  qualms  or  niceties.  For  I  re- 
membered the  much  kindness  he  and  his  had  shown  me 
— that  is,  after  the  first  rude  carrying  of  me  to  the  Shiel 
of  the  Dungeon.  So  I  stepped  up  and  offered  Hector  my 
hand,  the  which,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  accepted. 
This  being  done,  my  father  and  he  only  looked  at  each 
other  again,  and  bowed  simultaneously,  like  opponents 
about  to  fight  a  duel.  It  was  a  pretty  thing  to  see — two 
men  most  courteous  to  each  other,  without  prejudice  to 
their  private  enmities,  past  and  future. 

And  watching  them,  I  knew  in  a  moment  how  men  look 
at  each  other  to  their  dying  day,  who  in  early  life  have 
quarrelled  about  a  woman. 

"  Sir,  I  have  come  here  at  my  brother's  request,"  began 
Hector  Faa,  who  comported  himself  with  a  certain  black 
and  haughty  pride  that  sat  very  well  upon  him.  "  He 
informs  me  that  I  alone  can  right  certain  things  that  are 
wrong.     'Tis  not  much  in  my  line,  gentlemen,  to  preach 

395 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

— or,  you  will  say,  to  practise  either.  But  if  here  and 
now  we  can  come  to  a  clear  understanding,  I  am  at  your 
service.  You,  Mr.  Patrick  Heron,  wish  for  something 
which  you  cannot  obtain  without  me.  I,  on  my  part,  de- 
sire to  set  right  an  ancient  wrong.  x4nd  it  appears  to  me 
that  I  can  best  do  it  through  you  and  your  son.  Let  us, 
therefore,  draw  the  matter  to  a  head,  and  that  as  swiftly 
as  possible,  for,  as  I  understand  it,  Harry  Polwart  is  like 
myself  in  this,  that  he  docs  not  stick  at  trifles !" 

It  was  to  a  young  man  very  instructive  to  see  these 
three  men  draw  in  their  chairs  about  the  table  which  our 
host,  James  Cameron,  had  pushed  forward.  He  had  also, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  opened  a  cupboard  and  set  glasses 
and  a  decanter  in  the  midst,  that  being  the  rule  of  the 
ancient  hospitality  of  the  Free  Province. 

Then  he  beckoned  me  out  of  the  room  with  a  crook  of 
his  finger. 

"  I  think  you  and  me,  Maister  Maxle,"  he  said,  "  will 
hae  a  quiet  hour  amang  the  nowt,  and  leave  the  gentle- 
men to  their  talk." 

At  which  I  was  not  best  pleased,  being,  as  I  thought, 
so  deeply  concerned  in  the  matter.  But  as  my  father 
nodded  an  affirmative,  I  had  no  option  but  to  obey.  So 
for  an  hour  or  so  we  two  wandered  about,  while  douce 
James  Cameron  discoursed  to  deaf  ears  of  Clydesdale 
horses  and  brood-mares,  of  the  black  cattle  .which  need 
winter  feeding,  and  the  new  sort  which  can  be  left  out 
in  the  fields  most  part  of  the  year,  and  so  on  and  so  forth, 
till  at  a  cry  from  the  house-door  we  turned  us  homeward 
again. 

As  I  entered  the  little  kitchen  place  I  saw  that  the  table 
was  strewn  with  papers  and  parchments.  My  father  was 
sitting  with  one  of  the  latter  in  his  hands,  and  as  I  came 
in  alone  he  called  me  forward,  and  said,  "  Maxwell,  this 
gentleman  "  (nodding  across  to  Hector  Faa)  "  wishes  your 
assurance  that  you  are  willing  to  marry  the  lady  whom 

396 


HIGH    CONTEACTING    PARTIES 

you    have    hitherto    known    under    the    name    of    Joyce 
Faa— " 

"  Known  under  the  name  of — "  I  interrupted.  "  Is 
that  not  her  name  ?" 

"  For  the  present  the  name  does  not  matter,"  said  my 
father,  waving  his  hand,  "  If  you  are  willing  to  marry 
the  maid  as  Joyce  Faa,  surely  the  rose  by  any  other  name 
will  smell  as  sweet?" 

"  As  to  that,"  I  said,  "  I  do  indeed  love  her  with  all  my 
heart,  and  have  always  done  so.  I  ask  no  better  than  to 
marry  her,  now  or  at  any  other  time,  so  being  that  she 
will  have  me." 

I  could  see  the  pleasure  light  up  Hector's  dark  face  as 
I  spoke,  but  nevertheless  he  had  a  question  to  ask  of  me. 

"  And  why,  this  being  so,  did  you  refuse  when  this  mar- 
riage was  proposed  to  you  by  my  brother  at  the  Shiel  of 
the  Dungeon  ?"  he  said. 

"  Because,"  I  answered,  as  boldly  as  I  could,  "  then  I 
was  a  prisoner,  she  your  daughter.  I  understood  that 
neither  of  us  were  to  be  allowed  any  choice  in  the  matter, 
and  I  would  not  have  any  maid's  will  coerced  into  marry- 
ing me." 

"Well,"  said  my  father,  dryly,  to  cut  short  dangerous 
argument  with  a  man  like  Hector,  "  since  there  is  now  no 
question  of  that,  you  will  be  wise  to  sign  this  agreement 
— which,  I  may  say,  I  have  read,  and  which  you,  if  you 
choose,  may  also  read.  It  is  meant  solely  to  give  effect  to 
the  desires  which  you  have  just  expressed." 

I  felt  that  it  was  not  a  time  to  be  over-nice,  so  I  seized  a 
pen  without  further  words  and  signed  as  he  directed  me. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Hector,  accepting  the  papers 
which  my  father  handed  to  him,  and  exchanging  them 
for  another  packet  he  had  in  the  pocket  of  his  coat,  "  it 
is  time  for  us  to  take  a  little  promenade  in  the  direc4;ion 
of  the  Duchrae  Bank  Wood.  There  are  some  few  lads 
without  who  will  be  proud  to  accompany  us." 

397 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

"  Pray  pardon  me  one  moment,"  I  said  to  him,  "  but 
how  do  you  know  that  your  daughter  is  not  already 
wedded?  The  minister  of  Balmaghie  went  there  this 
morning  very  early.  Harry  Polwart  may  have  compelled 
him  to  marry  them  by  this  time." 

Hector  Faa  tossed  his  head  in  a  slighting  way,  and  smiled 
his  gloomy  and  sardonic  smile. 

"  Bide,"  he  said ;  "  wedded  Joyce  Faa,  indeed,  may 
have  been.  But  by  my  faith,  if  she  be,  this  hand  will 
make  her  a  widow  long  before  the  hour  arrives  for  mar- 
riage supper  or  bridegroom's  posset.  Among  other  settle- 
ments this  day,  I  have  one  with  Harry  Polwart  that  shall 
be  made  without  counted  siller  or  scrape  of  lawyer's  pen !" 

As  he  went  out  upon  the  green  a  fine  snow  began  to 
fall — rare  flakes  disentangling  themselves  languidly  from 
the  unbleached  linen  of  the  sky — what  was  my  surprise 
to  see  a  full  score  of  men  standing  about  upon  the  open 
space  before  the  barn,  comprising  both  the  immediate 
followers  and  the  occasional  reserves  of  Hector  Faa's  com- 
pany. Several  of  them  had  already  been  some  time  in  the 
camp  of  the  Levellers,  but  had  one  by  one  stolen  away  to 
join  their  ancient  chief.  In  the  foreground  my  old  ac- 
quaintance of  the  Dungeon,  Grice  Baillie,  pulled  a  rusty 
forelock.  Mort  Faa  gave  one  swift  glance  at  me,  and 
then  looked  away  with  an  elfish  grin,  as  who  would  say, 
"  We  will  see  what  mettle  you  are  made  of  ere  we  are  a 
day  older !"  I  felt  a  touch  on  my  arm.  "  Look  to  your 
accoutrement,"  said  the  voice  of  the  ex-dominie  Orr  Mac- 
Caterick,  at  my  elbow.  ""  Be  is  carrying  his  priming 
powder  in  his  waistcoat-pocket !" 

And  he  pointed  to  Hector  Faa  as  he  spoke. 

Then  Mort  Faa,  who  had  been  running  back  and  forth 
to  the  corner  of  the  barn  continually,  to  look  up  the  greon 
slopes  towards  the  Ullioch  Cairn,  cried  out  suddenly, 
"  Here  he  comes !"  Whereupon  we  all  went  about  the 
house.    And  there,  bent  low  like  a  coursing  dog,  came  one 

398 


HIGH    CONTRACTING    PARTIES 

of  Hector  Faa's  scouts,  hot-foot  from  the  camp  of  the 
Levellers. 

I  would  have  given  much  to  know  what  he  said  to  his 
chief  as  he  whispered  into  his  ear,  his  hands  pressed  hard 
on  his  heaving  sides,  where  a  stitch  evidently  gripped 
him,  for  every  moment  or  two  his  body  was  doubled  up 
with  pain,  and  his  breath  whistled  in  his  throat  like  wind 
in  a  broken  pair  of  smiddy  bellows. 

As  soon  as  the  messenger  had  stopped  speaking  I  walked 
across  to  Hector  and  asked  him  plainly  if  there  were  any 
news  of  Joyce.  But  the  outlaw's  face  was  like  a  wall,  and 
he  answered  me  fiercely,  "  None  to  delay  us  for  a  moment 
in  our  march !  Keep  your  weapons  ready,  young  man, 
and,  if  need  be,  fight  like  the  devil !  Eest  assured — maid, 
wife,  or  widow,  you  shall  marry  her!  Let  that  content 
you !" 

It  had  perforce  to  content  me,  and  yet  I  desired  very 
much  to  say  that,  if  it  was  all  the  same  to  him,  I  preferred 
that  it  should  be  as  the  first ! 


LII 

TWO    SOLDIERS    OF    TWO    KINGDOMS 

IN  the  camp  of  the  Levellers  on  the  Duchrae  Bank  Harry 
Polwart  certainly  carried  out  Silver  Sand's  prophecy 
to  the  letter.  Marion  found  that  not  only  was  Tredennis 
in  a  very  critical  position,  but  that  her  ovi^n  authority  was 
seriously  threatened.  Indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
gypsy's  preoccupation  about  Joyce,  and  a  curious  desire 
on  his  part  that  their  marriage  should  be  carried  out  with 
a  certain  ostentation,  she  could  not  have  postponed  the 
outbreak  that  was  fast  approaching. 

The  wilder  and  more  youthful  spirits  of  the  camp, 
thougli  they  had  at  first  been  pleased  with  the  notion  of  a 
handsome  and  clever  girl  as  their  captain  (and  Marion's 
genius  for  leadership  was  unquestioned  among  them),  now 
began  to  realize  the  hopelessness  of  their  position,  and  to 
crave  for  change  and  excitement. 

It  was  this  party  which  acclaimed  Harry  Polwart  so 
vociferously  on  his  arrival.  They  drank  in  eagerly  his 
wild  counsels  of  blood  and  vengeance,  and  sat  far  into  the 
night  with  him  drinking  and  applauding  till  they  felt 
themselves  able  to  undertake  the  mos^;  desperate  enter- 
prises. They  would  burn  every  mansion  house  in  the  three 
shires,  take  a  booty  of  prodigious  value,  carry  by  sudden 
assault  a  ship  in  Loch  Ryan  or  the  Port  of  Kirkcudbright, 
and  sail  away  to  a  life  of  riches  and  ease  on  another  con- 
tinent. All  wild  talk,  doubtless — but  at  that  hour  of 
night,  and  to  the  heated  imaginations  of  these  ignorant 

400 


TWO    SOLDIERS    OF    TWO    KINGDOMS 

lads,  such  feats  seemed  easy  and  simple  of  accomplish- 
ment. 

Thus  hour  after  hour  they  sat  open-mouthed,  listening 
to  the  desperate  and  bloody  adventures  of  the  gypsy  smug- 
gler^,  who  in  his  youth  had  added  to  his  other  experiences 
a  spice  of  piracy  on  the  high  seas. 

*'  This  is  no  life  you  live  here,"  he  was  saying  once  when 
Marion  passed  by.  "  These  wretched  shelters  on  the  wet 
ground,  nothing  better  than  rabbits  and  half-starved  sheep 
to  eat,  when  you  might  be  dressed  in  the  best,  jingling 
money  in  your  pockets,  and,  if  you  cared  for  that  kind  of 
thing,  with  a  lass  and  a  home  of  your  own !" 

''  But  the  risk !"  objected  a  Leveller,  one  not  so  bleared 
with  raw  country  spirit  as  the  rest.  "  Why,  we  should  all 
be  hanged — hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered  long  before  we 
got  half-way  to  your  wonderful  new  world  !" 

But  Harry  Polwart  overbore  his  objection  on  the  instant, 
and  the  others,  too  eager  for  this  new  Elysium  to  listen 
to  a  word  of  cavil,  angrily  shouted  him  down. 

"  Risk !"  cried  the  gypsy,  scornfully  echoing  his  first 
word,  "  of  course  there  is  risk !  But  nothing  to  the  risk 
of  remaining  here  with  winter  coming  on.  Your  captain 
is  a  clever  lass,  but "  (here  he  lowered  his  voice) — "  women 
are  well  enough  till  it  comes  to  be  a  question  of  a  little 
blood-letting — then  they  are  as  much  out  of  place  as  at  a 
pig-killing." 

"  Speaking  of  pigs,  Harry,"  said  one  Peter  Kelly,  a 
Wigtonshire  man  of  a  lowering  aspect  and  a  long  upper- 
lip,  '•'  have  you  seen  the  spy  we  gat  hold  of  this  after- 
noon ?" 

He  had  not  heard  what  had  already  passed  on  that 
subject  between  Marion  and  Harry  Polwart.  The  face  of 
the  blind  man  lit  up  with  a  ghastly  joy  at  the  remem- 
brance. He  had  an  idea.  He  called  the  men  nearer  to 
him,  till  their  heads  were  bent  together  in  a  circle. 

"  Look  you,"  he  said,  "  I  will  tell  vou  a  secret.     Your 
26  401 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOOT^ 

captain  is  either  in  love  with  this  fellow  or  wants  to  keep 
him  as  a  hostage  to  save  her  own  life !  She  would  not  let 
me  have  a  word  of  speech  with  the  man  to-night !" 

"  I  believe,"  said  Peter  Kelly,  suddenly,  "  that  the  offi- 
cer is  the  same  who  rode  at  the  head  of  the  dragoons  when 
they  brought  you  down  from  Minnigaff  to  be  hanged.  I 
was  at  the  Brig  End  of  Cree  as  you  passed." 

"  Ah !"  cried  the  gypsy,  ''  if  only  I  were  sure  of  that ! 
But  we  will  wait  till  the  morning  and  make  certain !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Kelly,  "  but  to-night  the  old  gang  are  about, 
thick  as  herring  in  barrel.  Old  Bob  Galtway  and  Young 
Rob,  Will  Grey  and  his  brother  Adam — all  the  gray- 
beards  of  the  council." 

"  Wait,"  said  Harry  Polwart.  "  We  will  settle  that  and 
many  other  things,  as  you  say,  in  the  morning.  If  this  be 
the  man  I  suppose  we  will  blow  out  his  brains  as  a  little 
moral  lesson !  It  needs  only  that  to  strike  terror.  You 
have  plaj'^ed  at  this  sugar-water  business  too  long !" 

The  drink  continued  to  circle  more  quickly  about  the 
fire.  Wilder  and  wilder  grew  the  talk;  vaster  swelled  the 
spoil,  till  each  of  these  poor,  ignorant  lads  saw  himself 
rich  as  ten  kings.  They  would  take  St.  Mary's  Isle,  the 
town  of  Kirdcudbright,  Drumlanrig  Castle.  Every  day 
they  would  arid  to  their  numbers  and  their  power.  Dum- 
fries itself  might  fall.  The  government  had  no  troops  to 
oppose  them  nearer  than  London — so  Harry  Polwart 
averred,  with  many  oaths,  and  by  the  time  these  could 
arrive  every  man  Jack  of  them  would  be  safe  over-seas. 

And  Marion,  going  on  her  rounds  sadly,  left  behind  her 
these  sounds  of  revelry,  drunken  shoutings,  and  horrid 
threatenings,  new  in  the  douce  camp  of  the  Levellers,  with 
their  worship  at  morn  and  even,  and  their  sober  motto 
written  across  the  blue  flag  of  St.  Andrew,  "  A  free  land 
and  a  free  folk." 

Yet  for  the  moment  she  dared  not  interfere — not  that 
she  feared  for  her  own  life,  but  that  she  knew  well  that 

403 


TWO    SOLDIEES    OF   TWO    KINGDOMS 

that  of  Austin  Tredennis  hung  upon  a  hair.  If  she  could 
not  keep  a  majority  of  the  saner  and  more  open-minded 
men  on  her  side  to  show  a  strong  front  on  the  morrow  to 
Harry  Polwart  and  his  gang,  the  blood  of  the  man  who 
had  risked  so  much  to  save  her  would  be  on  her  hands ! 

Now  she  would  have  given  all  she  possessed  that  Tre- 
dennis might  go  free.  But,  alas !  she  herself  had  made 
that  impossible  by  committing  his  custody  to  the  most 
responsible  members  of  the  Levellers'  Council,  so  she  had 
perforce  to  await  the  event  of  the  morrow  with  what 
equanimity  she  could  compass. 

And  Joyce!  What  of  her?  I  warrant  it  was  little  that 
she  slept  that  night.  For  from  across  the  camp  platform 
came  songs  and  drunken  merriment  in  which  she  could 
distinguish  the  voice  of  the  man  who  to-morrow  was  to  be 
her  husband. 

Never  had  the  path  of  duty  seemed  so  hard,  and  more 
than  once  she  rose  and,  from  the  edge  of  the  camp  plat- 
form, looked  down  at  the  black  pools  of  the  Grenoch  Lane, 
sleeping  deep  in  the  shadow  of  its  woods.  But  a  hope  of 
something — she  knew  not  what — awaiting  her  in  the 
future  withheld  her  from  self-destruction. 

Here  also  the  morning  came  red  and  glorious,  even  as  I 
saw  it  from  the  fair  Kirkhill  of  Balmaghie.  Only  through 
the  reddening  leaves  of  the  wood  the  flaming  lift  seemed 
more  completely  arched  with  fire,  and  the  pale,  emerald 
reflection  made  the  bodies  of  the  sleeping  men  appear  like 
unburied  corpses  on  a  field  of  slaughter. 

Of  the  four  whose  fates  intermingled  and  interdepended 
in  the  camp  of  the  Duchrae  Wood,  only  one  remained  un- 
conscious. Marion,  Joyce,  and  Tredennis  were  all  awake ; 
but  Harry  Polwart  slept  long,  the  fumes  of  the  spirits  he 
had  drunk  on  the  previous  night  uniting  with  the  terrible 
fatigues  of  his  journey  to  prevent  him  from  waking  be- 
times. 

And  so  it  chanced  that,  quite  unknown  to  any  there,  a 
403 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

tall,  strongly  built,  determined  man  was  striding  rapidly 
over  hill  and  dale  towards  the  camp,  and  when  Harry  Pol- 
wart  awakened  it  was  to  find  the  minister  of  Balmaghie 
standing  over  him  and  asking  him  how  he  did.  The  g}^psy 
did  not  return  to  consciousness  in  any  favorable  mood. 
His  yesterday's  gratitude  to  his  benefactor  had  passed,  and 
now  that  his  debauch  was  dying  out  of  him  its  usual  conse- 
quents of  fierce  headache  and  villanous  temper  became 
apparent. 

"  When  you  have  made  you  ready,"  said  Mr.  Macmillan 
to  Harry  Polwart,  "  I  desire  some  conversation  with  you. 
I  have  made  a  long  travel  for  that  purpose." 

"  Say  what  you  have  to  say  here  and  now !"  growled  the 
gypsy.  "  Though  this  is  my  wedding-day,  I  have  no  great 
toilet  to  make  1" 

And,  bidding  one  of  his  tail  of  obsequious  followers  to 
bring  him  a  basin  of  water  and  a  towel  from  Joyce  Faa's 
tent,  he  sat  down  with  his  fingers  laid  across  his  aching 
brow. 

"  I  fear,"  said  the  minister,  looking  at  him  observantly, 
"  that  your  recent  marvellous  deliverance  has  not  brought 
YOU  to  repentance." 

"  Now,  sir  parson !"  cried  the  gypsy,  leaping  up  fiercely, 
"  listen  to  me  once  for  all !  I  desire  no  preaching !  You 
did  very  well  yesterday  in  bringing  me  here,  but  you  must 
remember  that  I  also  did  my  part  in  sparing  you  the  knife 
in  your  ribs  that  I  had  intended  for  you !  So  consider  us 
as  quits,  and  keep  the  sermons  for  Sundays  and  fast- 
days!" 

•'  If  ye  like  my  introduction  so  little,  friend,"  returned 
John  Macmillan,  who  was  not  a  man  to  be  so  daunted,  "  I 
fear  me  ye  will  like  the  '  pirliecue* '  (summing-up  and  con- 
clusion) even  less." 

To  this  the  blind  gypsy  did  not  reply,  and  the  minister 
went  on. 

"  I  have  been  informed,"  he  said,  "  that  you  are  intend- 
404 


TWO  SOLDIERS  OF  TWO  KINGDOMS 

ing  to  marry  this  girl  without  her  father's  consent.  Is 
that  a  true  word  which  I  have  heard  ?" 

A  fierce  and  blood-thirsty  expression  leaped  into  the 
man's  scarred  features. 

"  I  know  the  white-livered  hound  who  told  you  that !" 
he  cried.  "  I  have  had  his  blood  once  on  this  knife-back. 
I  shall  send  it  deeper  in  ere  long !  It  was  Maxwell  Jleron 
— that  fine  lady's  puppet  whom  I  will  break  across  my  knee 
like  an  ash-twig !" 

"  It  matters  little  who  told  me,"  said  the  minister.  "  I 
ask  you  is  the  word  a  true  word?" 

"  As  little  it  matters  to  you  or  me  whether  it  be  true  or 
not !"  cried  the  gypsy,  rising,  and  laying  his  hand  fiercely 
on  Macmillan's  shoulder.  "  Hearken,  minister !  you  shall 
marry  me  to  Joyce  Faa  this  day,  or  I  take  all  hell  to  wit- 
ness that  I  will  send  this  knife  to  your  heart — or,  if  you 
prefer  it,  a  bullet  through  your  brain !  Do  your  work, 
minister,  and  do  not  cross  a  desperate  man.  The  girl  is 
willing.  That  is  sufficient  for  the  law  of  the  land.  Let  it 
be  enough  for  you.  As  for  God  Almighty  and  Hector 
Faa,  I  will  be  responsible  to  them !" 

It  was  a  grasp  wellnigh  as  strong  as  his  own  that  re- 
moved the  blind  gypsy's  hand  from  the  minister's  shoulder, 
for  as  to  his  thews  Maemillan  was  no  weakling. 

"  Man !"  he  said,  still  holding  the  gypsy's  wrist,  "  I 
wonder  you  have  no  more  sense,  after  what  you  heard  yes- 
terday, than  to  threat  John  Maemillan  with  your  swords 
and  pistols,  as  if  he  were  a  fearful  bairn.  Sir,  I  value 
neither  you  nor  your  boasts  one  oat-straw !  Answer  my 
question,  and  the  others  which  I  will  put  to  you.  If  I  am 
satisfied,  I  will  marry  you  to  this  maid  freely  and  gladly. 
If  not,  you  may  sheathe  your  knife  in  my  heart,  an'  it 
please  you,  but — you  will  not  shake  my  determination !" 

''  Ay,  and  he  will  stand  to  it,  be  sure,"  said  one  of  his 
followers,  who  knew  the  repute  of  the  minister  of  Bal- 
raaghie.     "  He  did  vou  a  good  turn,  Harry.     Besides,  he 

405 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

is  a  godly  man.  Speak  him  fair.  They  say  he  has  the 
second  sight." 

"  A  good  turn !"  cried  the  gypsy.  "  Did  I  ask  him  for 
his  good  tnrn?  Did  ever  Harry  Polwart  ask  a  good  turn 
from  any  man,  save  the  hangman  that  he  might  kill  him 
quickly?  And  now  he  asks  only  that  this  braying  ass 
might  as  expeditiously  do  his  task.  And  so  we  shall  see, 
ere  this  day  be  done,  or  some  whose  heads  are  high  shall 
bite  the  dust!  Hallo!  What  is  this  noise?  Whom  have 
we  here?" 

The  minister  turned  round,  and  saw  half  a  dozen  men, 
some  of  whom  he  knew  as  cottiers  and  parishioners  of  his 
own,  rather  shamefacedly  guarding  a  prisoner  towards  the 
main  camp. 

"  John  Cannon  !  Allan  Dempster !  What  do  you  here  ? 
You  had  been  better  employ*>d  wearing  the  slieep  off  the 
hill,  than  with  that  decent  man  tied  up  between  you  like  a 
common  thief !" 

"  Bring  the  fellow  hither !"  cried  Harry  Polwart,  in  a 
tone  of  fierce  command,  instantly  recognizing  his  oppor- 
tunity. 

The  men  were  about  to  proceed,  for  the  presence  of  the 
minister  in  the  gypsy's  company  encouraged  them. 

"Do  you  hear?"  shouted  PolM^art.  "Hither  instant- 
ly with  the  sneaking  hound  I"  And,  when  they  still  hesi- 
tated to  obey,  he  broke  into  low  and  brutal  oaths  and  re- 
vilings. 

"  Sir,"  said  John  Macmillan,  with  gi-eat  dignity  and 
elevation,  "I  am  a  minister  of  God  in  my  own  parish,  and 
though  it  has  been  my  hap  to  be  deposed  by  the  Presbytery, 
His  arm  has  sustained  me  among  this  people.  I  do  not  love 
to  war  with  the  weapons  of  flesh,  but  I  tell  you  plainly 
that  I  will  listen  to  no  such  words,  either  from  you  or 
from  any  otlier  man  !" 

Polwart  laughed  harslily  and  defiantly. 

"  You  will  hear  a  good  deal  more  that  you  have  never 
40G 


TWO    SOLDIERS    OF    TWO    KINGDOMS 

yet  heard  before  if  you  dare  to  cross  Harry  Polwart !"  he 
retorted.  "  Ijisten  well  with  your  ears  and  look  well  with 
your  eyes  while  I  deal  with  this  spy.  And  if  he  be  the 
man  I  think  him,  be  warned,  minister,  or  you  may  chance 
to  accompany  him  on  a  longer  journey  than  that  from 
Kirkcudbright  to  the  Manse  of  Balmaghie !" 

Tredennis  was  now  brought  close  to  the  gypsy,  who  re- 
mained sitting  on  the  trunk  of  a  felled  tree  on  the  edge 
of  the  outer  fortifications. 

"  Your  name  ?"  cried  the  gypsy,  with  savage  truculence. 
"  Do  not  lie  to  me !  I  know  ways  of  making  you  speak, 
remember.  I  have  dealt  with  gentlemen  of  your  kidney 
before !" 

"  I  do  not  recognize  any  right  that  you  have  to  ask  it," 
said  the  soldier,  with  quiet  decision.  "  But  my  name,  at 
any  honest  man's  service,  is  Austin  Tredennis,  captain  in 
Ligonier's  Horse." 

The  gypsy  rose  hastily  to  his  feet. 

"  And  you  prate  of  honesty,  who  passed  yourself  off  as 
one  Job  Brown,  a  cattle-dealer !"  he  cried.  "  You  came 
here  spying  within  these  intrenchments !  You  were  capt- 
ured in  disguise  on  the  outskirts  of  the  camp !" 

*'  I  am  a  soldier  of  the  King's!"  said  Tredennis,  boldly. 
"  I  have  obeyed  my  general's  instructions  in  this,  as  I 
did  when  I  took  a  certain  outlaw  and  murderer  suspect, 
Harry  Polwart,  prisoner  at  the  Manse  of  Minnigaff." 

The  face  of  the  blind  gypsy  became  livid  with  rage,  and 
his  features  were  distorted  almost  out  of  any  semblance  to 
humanity. 

"  Then  you  are  the  dog  who  arrested  me,  and  you  glory 
in  it ! — who  took  Joyce  from  me — who  thrust  me  into 
prison — who  has  kept  me  in  this  accursed  land?  If  it 
had  not  been  for  you,  she  and  I  would  have  been  clear  of 
everything,  and  in  another  country !  Curse  your  black, 
sneaking  heart !  Now  I  will  have  your  life !  I  swore  it  in 
prison — yes,  on  the  scaffold,  with  the  rope  round  my  neck, 

407 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

I  yet  hoped  that  I  might  be  spared  to  kill  you  with  this 
hand !" 

The  blind  man  took  a  step  forward  in  the  direction  of 
the  prisoner,  and  as  soon  as  he  touched  him  with  the  palm 
of  his  open  right  hand  he  smote  him  once,  twice,  and 
thrice  across  the  face. 

"  Take  that  for  an  earnest  of  what  I  will  presently  do 
for  you.  Captain  Spy !"  he  cried.  "  But  first  you  shall 
be  best  man  and  dance  at  my  wedding.  Then  we  will 
take  you  out  to  the  dyke-side,  and  my  lads  here  will  give 
a  certain  skulking  dog  a  little  dose  of  lead  that  will  prevent 
him  forever  from  apprehending  innocent  men  and  women 
and  shutting  them  up  in  his  dog-kennels !" 

He  would  have  struck  Tredennis  again,  but  the  minister 
of  Balmaghie  thrust  himself  in  hetween,  and  cried  aloud, 
"  Harry  Polwart,  once  has  the  vengeance  of  God  touched 
you !  Beware  how  you  provoke  Him  to  wrath  the  second 
time !  If  this  man  be  your  prisoner,  and  you  are  waging 
a  warfare  against  the  crowned  King  of  this  realm,  remem- 
ber that  he  but  obeyed  his  orders  and  did  his  duty !" 

Then,  at  this  interference,  the  rage  of  the  blind  gypsy 
passed  all  bounds.  He  drew  his  dagger,  and  sprang  for- 
ward to  strike  the  minister  to  the  earth. 

But  Macmillan  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height  and 
folded  his  arms. 

"  Let  us  see,  sirs,"  he  said,  addressing  the  bystanders, 
"  how  far  God  will  allow  him  to  go !  Strike,  sir,  strike ! 
Aha,  you  cannot !  It  is  not  permitted  to  you !  I  thought 
not.  You  cannot  touch  the  Lord's  servant  before  the 
time !" 

And  true  it  is  that  though  tiie  gypsy  foamed  at  the 
mouth  with  fury,  though  the  muscles  of  his  arm  twitched 
convulsively  with  desire  to  strike,  though  his  left  hand 
clawed  at  the  empty  air  within  an  inch  or  two  of  the 
minister's  shoulder,  his  right,  in  which  the  knife  had  been 
uplifted  to  strike,  fell  powerless  to  his  side ! 

408 


TWO    SOLDIERS    OF    TWO    KINGDOMS 

Something  between  a  temporary  paralysis  and  the  rigor 
of  death  fell  upon  him  for  a  moment.  He  trembled  from 
head  to  foot,  and  muttered  words  in  a  strange  tongue. 

But  the  minister's  words  came  clear  and  distinct,  even 
defiantly :  "  I  praise  the  Lord,  Who  hath  strength  to  de- 
liver my  soul  from  the  sword;  my  darling  from  the  power 
of  the  dog !" 


LIII 

THE    STORMING   OF   THE    CAMP 

WHEN  Austin  Tredennis  was  first  smitten  on  the  face 
he  had  turned  a  ghastly  white,  and  for  a  moment 
his  bound  hands  strained  at  his  bonds.  But  in  a  mo- 
ment he  had  controlled  himself,  and  for  all  the  feeling 
that  was  expressed  on  his  countenance,  the  gj'psy  might 
as  well  have  struck  a  marble  statue. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Marion  came  upon  the  scene. 
She  found  Austin  standing  with  his  guards  by  his  side. 
The  minister  of  Balmaghie,  with  his  arms  folded,  was 
looking  straight  at  the  gypsy,  and  Polwart  still  clutched 
the  knife  in  his  impotent  fingers. 

"  Why  have  you  not  brought  the  prisoner  directly  to 
me?"  she  cried,  sharph^,  ignoring  the  blind  gypsy  and  his 
retinue. 

The  guards  did  not  speak;  but  Polwart,  instantly  col- 
lecting himself  at  the  sound  of  the  new  voice,  answered, 
"  Because  I  bade  them  l)ring  him  to  me !" 

"  And  by  what  right  ?"  cried  Marion,  indignantly. 

"  By  the  same  right  by  which  you  had  him  arrested — 
because  I  had  men  to  do  my  bidding !"  retorted  the  gypsy, 
who,  baffled  momentarily  by  Macmillan,  now  l)egan  to  feel 
the  strength  of  his  position  in  the  camp. 

"  The  Council  shall  decide  between  us,"  said  ]\Iarion. 
"  Men,  bring  him  to  my  tent !" 

With  a  sudden  rush  forward,  Harry  Polwart  caught 
Tredennis  by  the  arm,  scattering  the  guards  this  way  and 

410 


THE    STOEMING    OF   THE    CAMP 

that.  These  were  elderly  men,  and  had  an  almost  super- 
stitious fear  of  the  blind  gypsy. 

"  To  me,"  cried  the  latter,  "  all  who  wish  to  see  justice 
done !  This  precious  captain  of  yours  is  keeping  this  officer 
as  a  hostage  for  her  own  life !  She  is  selling  you  to  insure 
her  own  safety !  Why  else  has  she  kept  you  here  doing 
nothing  for  weeks  and  weeks,  while  the  enemy  gathered 
strength  ?  It  was  a  bargain,  I  tell  you ;  and  this  spy  was 
her  go-between — perhaps  her  paramour !  j\Iake  an  ex- 
ample of  him!  Shoot  him  on  the  spot,  and  so  perish 
all  red-coat  spies  and  all  traitors  to  the  cause !"' 

And  while  Marion  still  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  by  the 
very  shock  of  her  surprise,  Harry  Polwart's  words  drew 
fifty  or  sixty  men  about  him,  and  in  a  moment  the  main 
camp  was  in  his  hands. 

True,  she  had  a  nominal  majority  still.  But  it  consisted 
chiefly  of  older  men,  averse  from  blood  and  unwilling  to 
come  to  blows.  With  Pol  wart,  on  the  other  hand,  were 
most  of  the  younger  men,  together  with  those  who  had 
gone  on  the  raiding  and  destroying  expeditions.  So  that, 
as  Silver  Sand  had  foretold,  by  permitting  and  encour- 
aging these,  Marion  had  been  forging  a  weapon  for  her 
own  destruction. 

The  Polwart  party  did  not  attempt  any  actual  violence 
against  herself,  but  they  took  entire  possession  of  all  the 
principal  works  and  of  the  headquarters  hut,  in  which 
Joyce  Faa  remained.  Around  this  they  settled  them- 
selves, with  the  minister  and  Tredennis  guarded  in  the 
midst. 

Presently  Polwart,  being  guided  by  one  of  his  followers, 
knocked  at  the  door  of  the  little,  roughly  built  shelter,  and, 
entering,  presently  came  out  again  leading  Joyce  by  the 
hand. 

"  This,"  he  said,  addressing  the  minister  and  the  men 
who  stood  about,  "  is  the  daughter  of  Hector  Faa,  to 
whom  I  was  in  the  act  of  being  married  at  the  manse  of 

411 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

Minnigaff,  when  I  was  arrested  on  a  false  charge  by  this 
spy  and  his  troopers.  It  is  fitting  that  before  he  dies  he 
should  help  to  repair  the  wrong  he  has  done.  Joyce,  is  it 
your  will  that  we  be  married  here  and  now  ?" 

"  I  gave  my  promise,  and  I  am  ready  to  redeem  it," 
Joyce  answered,  with  her  eyes  upon  the  ground. 

"  You  hear,  minister  ?"  said  the  gypsy.  "  She  is  of  full 
age,  and,  father  or  no  father,  she  is  quite  able  to  decide 
for  herself  whom  she  shall  marry.  Do  your  duty,  sir,  or 
take  the  consequences !" 

"  Sir,"  said  IMr.  Macmillan,  "  I  will  not  be  coerced  into 
doing  my  duty,  nor  do  I  need  any  to  tell  me  what  my  duty 
is !  As  1  said  before,  I  am  not  satisfied,  and  I  decline  to 
marry  you  to  this  woman !" 

"  Oh,  do  not  cross  him,  sir !"  cried  Joyce,  lifting  up  her 
hands  in  appeal. 

"  Do  I  gather  that  you  also  wish  this  marriage  to  take 
place?"  said  the  minister,  astonished  in  his  turn.  "  I  was 
informed — I  was  given  to  understand  that — that — " 

"  I  have  passed  my  word  to  marry  this  man,"  answered 
Joyce,  "  and  if  you  will  not  do  what  he  asks  you  he  will  kill 
you !  I  K'now  he  will !  I  would  have  no  more  blood  shed 
on  my  account !" 

The  minister  paused  a  moment,  and  then  addressed  Har- 
ry Polwart  again.  "  If  I  do  this  thing  will  you  promise 
to  save  this  soldier's  life?" 

"  By  heavens,  no !"  cried  the  gypsy.  "  His  life  is  forfeit, 
in  spite  of  a  thousand  marriages !  Be  thankful,  parson, 
that  you  save  your  own  !    That  is  enough  for  you  !" 

"  Then,"  said  the  minister,  raising  his  voice  so  that  all 
might  hear,  "  let  your  father  the  devil  couple  you,  if  1)0 
can!  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  tlie  matter.  And  I 
solemnly  adjure  and  command  this  misguided  maid  to 
flee  from  such  a  servant  of  Satan  and  such  a  monster  of 
iniquity  as  you  !" 

And  as  he  spoke  Austin  Tredennis,  who  had  been  looking 
412 


THE    STORMING    OF    THE    CAMP 

steadfastly  upon  the  ground,  suddenly  turned  and  gazed 
fixedly  at  the  bold  minister  of  Balmaghie  with  the  un- 
mistakable look  Avhich  says,  "  You  also  are  a  man !" 

"  To  the  water-side  with  them  both !"  commanded  the 
blind  gypsy.  "  Six  of  you  who  are  the  best  shots  bring 
your  muskets  I  Oh,  that  I  had  my  eyes !  These  fellows 
should  not  flout  us !  But  give  me  a  hand,  Peter  Kelly. 
I  can  still  set  a  pistol  to  their  heads  and  blow  out  their 
brains !" 

So,  all  in  a  hasty  turmoil  of  words,  shoutings,  and  con- 
fused noise,  Tredennis  and  the  minister  were  hustled  away. 
But  some  part  even  of  Polwart's  immediate  followers  was 
ashamed  and  hung  back — not  so  much  from  the  killing 
of  the  soldier,  but  from  laying  hands  upon  a  minister. 

Knowing  well  what  it  was  that  stuck  in  their  throats, 
Polwart  cried  out,  "  They  are  spies — both  of  them !  They 
came  to  find  out  the  nakedness  of  the  land!  If  we  let 
them  go  they  will  tell  all  to  the  enemy.  They  have  seen 
your  defences.  They  will  identify  you  when  the  hell- 
hounds of  an  unjust  government  are  trying  to  hang  you 
as  they  tried  to  hang  me !  Kill  them,  I  tell  you,  and  be 
done  with  them !    That  is  your  only  safety !" 

"  But  the  minister,  Harry  !"  cried  some.  "  It  is  not  well 
to  slay  a  minister !  It  brings  a  curse !  Think  of  Grier  of 
Lag,  and  how  he  died — in  cold  water  to  the  waist,  and 
crying  out  that  he  was  already  in  hell-fire !" 

"  Lies  !  lies  !"  cried  the  gypsy;  "  old  wives'  tales  to  fright 
bairns !  Besides,  this  man  is  no  minister !  The  true  min- 
isters cast  him  out  long  ago  on  account  of  his  wicked- 
ness— " 

"  ISTa}',  not  for  his  wickedness  !"  denied  another.  "  You 
are  wrong  there,  Harry." 

"For  what,  then,  did  they  cast  him  out?"  vociferated 
the  gypsy. 

"Nay,  that  I  know  not,"  replied  the  other,  "but  I  do 
know  well  that  it  was  for  no  ill.    I  did  not  neighbor  him 

413 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

for  thirty  year  at  the  Clachan  of  Shankfoot  without  find- 
ing that  out." 

The  minister  of  Balmaghie  turned  upon  the  speaker 
quickly.  He  had  not  spoken  for  some  time,  but  the  sound 
of  the  man's  voice  seemed  to  rouse  him. 

"  Ah,  Gabriel  Dobie  !"  he  said,  "  is  it  you  ?  I  will  mind 
this  when  you  come  up  for  your  token  next  communion 
season.  I  will  debar  you,  sir,  from  sealing  ordinances  for 
your  company  with  such  unbelievers,  and  for  being  a 
partaker  of  their  iniquities!  On  the  stool  of  repentance 
shall  you  sit,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  John  Macmillan ! 
Also,  Gabriel,  I  will  commune  with  you  for  your  soul's 
health.  I  will  correct  you  with  rods  and  chasten  you  with 
scorpions !" 

But  in  the  very  midst  of  these  threats  of  ecclesiastical 
discipline  Gabriel  Dobie  was  pushed  to  the  side,  and  a 
wave  of  angry  men,  shouting  "  Kill  the  spies  I"  "  Shoot 
the  traitors !"  "  He  is  no  true  minister !"  carried  Tre- 
dennis  and  Macmillan  to  the  corner  of  the  intrenchments 
overlooking  the  Lane,  and  nearest  to  the  Hollan  Isle,  at 
the  last  of  which  Austin  (though  he  judged  that  his  time 
was  come)  looked  across  not  without  interest.  But  his 
thoughts  were  mostly  busy  with  Marion.  He  would  have 
liked  to  bid  her  farewell,  if  only  in  a  word.  Then  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  muttered  to  himself,  "  What 
matter  ?    She  would  not  care  !" 

All  the  while  the  1)1  ind  gypsy  was  busy  stirring  up  anger 
and  jealousy,  crying  blood  and  vengeance  on  all  traitors. 
They  would  at  last  show  their  persecutors  that  they  were 
not  to  be  trifled  with. 

"  One  dead  dragoon  sent  in  a  cart  to  Kirkcudbright," 
so  he  told  them,  "  will  be  a  better  proof  that  you  are  in 
earnest  than  a  score  of  petitions  and  claims  of  right.  Stell 
them  up  and  shoot  them  down,  say  I !" 

But  the  men,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  of  the  most 
deeply    committed,  still    hung    back,  whereupon    Harry 

414 


THE    STORMING    OF    THE    CAMP 

Polwart,  with  angry  vows  of  vengeance,  laid  hold  on  them, 
and  with  Peter  Kelly  to  aid  him  and  a  pistol  cocked  in 
his  hand,  marched  them  one  by  one  to  the  place  where 
Austin  and  Macmillan  stood  waiting  their  doom. 

"  Let  any  man  dare  to  cross  my  vengeance !"  he  cried. 
"  I  swear  I  will  scatter  his  brains  on  the  sod,  if  one  who 
has  joined  with  me  refuses  now  to  obey!  Charge  .your 
pieces,  men !" 

Meanwhile  Tredennis  was  speaking  in  a  low  voice  to  the 
minister. 

"  They  mean  business  this  time  !"  he  whispered.  "  Your 
legs  are  free.  Over  with  you,  and  take  to  the  water !  My 
feet  are  fettered,  so  I  have  no  chance;  but  I  can  hold 
them  long  enough  to  give  you  a  start.  The  Hollan  Isle 
is  within  a  hundred  yards,  and  if  these  fellows  shoot,  ten 
to  one  they  will  miss !  I  can  see  they  are  new  to  the 
trade." 

The  soldier  and  the  minister  stood  six  yards  or  so  from 
the  firing-party,  quite  close  to  the  water,  and  Macmillan 
really  had  a  fair  chance  of  escaping  across  to  the  Hollan 
Isle,  especially  from  such  indifferent  and  unwilling  marks- 
men.   But  he  only  shook  his  head. 

"  You  and  I  will  go  the  one  road,  friend,"  he  said ;  "  at 
least,  so  far.  But  what  of  your  soul  ?  Are  you  prepared  ? 
Have  you  an  interest  in  the  kingdom  that  is  above,  not 
made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens?" 

"  That  I  do  not  know,"  said  Austin,  gently.  "  I  am  but 
a  plain  soldier,  and  have  done  my  duty  poorly  either  to 
King  George  or  to  That  Other  of  whom  you  speak.  Yet  I 
have  done  the  best  I  could." 

"  Good !"  said  the  minister,  nodding  his  head,  "  yet  I 
fear  there  is  Arminianism  in  the  reply.  I  should  like 
to  argue  the  question  of  faith  and  works  with  you — if  we 
have  not  time  here — well,  up  above  I" 

Many  of  the  Levellers  stood  round  watching  the  event, 
with  uncertainty  and  terror  manifest  on  their  faces.    They 

415 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

could  not  bring  themselves  to  come  to  blows  with  that 
fierce  and  desperate  clique  now  controlled  by  the  blind 
gypsy.  Yet  in  a  iew  moments  it  would  be  too  late. 
Marion,  to  the  northward  of  the  main  camp,  was  trying  to 
get  together  a  sufficient  number  of  the  older  men  to  at-  * 
tempt  a  rescue.  But  Harry  Polwart,  suspecting  her  pur- 
pose, hastened  to  bring  the  matter  to  an  issue. 

"  Now,  minister !"  he  cried,  "  I  put  it  to  you  for  the 
last  time — will  you  do  your  duty,  and  perform  your 
promise  of  yesterday?  I  give  you  this  one  chance.  You 
have  a  wife  and  children.  Think  of  them.  I  need  not 
remind  you  that  you  are  wholly  in  my  hands,  and  that  I 
am  not  a  man  to  say  one  thing  and  do  another.  For  the 
last  time,  will  you  keep  your  promise  and  depart  in 
peace,  or  be  shot  for  a  traitor  and  a  spy?  Take  your 
choice !" 

"  Poor  worm !"  said  the  minister,  "  and  you,  yet  poorer 
deluded  lads !  I  am  heart-wae  for  you,  so  sadly  are  ye  left 
to  yourselves !  You  may  indeed  lay  me  dead  by  the  side 
of  this  honest  soldier,  but  what  will  that  profit  you  ?  How 
will  ye  answer  for  your  deed  in  That  Day  ?" 

"  Hold  your  prating  tongue !"  cried  Polwart,  afraid 
that  he  might  even  then  influence  them.  "  We  do  not 
want  your  preaching !  Once  more,  will  you  do  your  office 
— ay  or  no?" 

"  Tken  on  my  conscience.  No !"  cried  the  minister,  lift- 
ing up  his  right  hand  to  heaven,  "  and  1  leave  my  testi- 
mony that  I  have  warned  all  these  poor  lads  of  their 
danger.  Go  to  your  own  homes,  and  take  your  punishment 
like  men.  And  for  me,  I  take  these  woods  and  fields  to 
witness  my  solemn,  dying  warning — these  distant  hills  and 
clear-running  streams — that  lliis  day  1  have  preached  to 
you  repentance  and  forgivoness  of  sin  !  Scatter !  leave  the 
sinner  to  perish  in  his  sin !  Flee  from  the  wrath  to  come 
— from  the  judgment  that  shall  surely  fall  on  the  ungodly ! 
While  yet  there  is  time,  turn  to  Him  and  live !    The  har- 

416 


THE    STORMING    OF    THE    CAMP 

vest  is  past,  the  summer  ended,  and  ye  are  not  saved !    Why 
will  ye  die,  0  House  of  Israel  ?" 

"  Make  ready  there,  lads !"  cried  the  gypsy.  "  Are  ye 
charged  ?    Present  your  pieces  !" 

Austin  Tredennis  said  nothing.  No  change  passed  over 
the  immovable  calm  of  his  countenance.  Not  a  quiver  of 
the  eyelid  betrayed  that  he  felt  the  position  in  which  he 
was  placed.  A  slight  drawing  up  of  the  tall  figure  perhaps 
there  was,  a  squaring  of  the  shoulders  which  alone  showed 
preparation  to  meet  the  death  volley.  Nevertheless,  deep 
within  his  heart  he  said  the  Lord's  prayer.  But  the  min- 
ister of  Balmaghie — though,  as  we  know,  not  afraid  of  the 
martyr's  death,  yet  conserved  cheerfully  the  martyr's  right 
of  testification.    He  had  another  word  yet  to  add. 

"  I  die,"  he  cried,  "  adhering  to  the  declarations  and 
testimonies  put  in  by  me  before  the  Presbytery  of  Kirk- 
cudbright, and  to  the  covenants,  national  and  solemn 
league  !  Bide  a  moment,  lads ;  let  me  say  out  my  say !  Ye 
will  not?  Then  into  God's  hand  I  deliver  you  all,  and 
especially  Harry  Polwart — ^^njust,  bloody-minded,  and  un- 
grateful. And  may  He  who  feeds  the  ravens  take  care  of 
Mary  and  my  poor  young  bairns !" 

At  this  crisis  of  affairs  there  was  hoard  a  noise  of  guns 
on  the  upper  side  of  the  camp,  the  confused  crying  of  many 
fierce  voices.  The  men  of  the  firing-party  turned  irreso- 
lutely, and  looked  behind  them. 

"  Shoot  the  spies !  shoot,  I  bid  you !"  cried  the  gypsy, 
fiercely.  "  Cowards  that  ye  are,  fire  upon  them !  Dogs 
and  sons  of  dogs !  Kill  them  first,  and  then  we  will  settle 
the  other  matters  after !" 

But  from  the  upper  camp  swelled  a  tumultuous  shout: 
"  Upon  them  !  Down  with  them  !  They  run  !  The  place 
is  ours !" 

"  Tush !"  cried  the  blind  man,  "  it  is  but  that  woman 

with  her  following  of  fools  and  graybeards !     What  can 

they  do  against  us?    Stand  by  Harrv  Polwart,  and  we  will 
27  4^7 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

make  minced  collops  of  them.  Oh,  you  cowards  !  Lend  me 
a  hand  there,  Peter  Kell}' !  Joyce,  come  hither  to  me ! 
Great  God !  if  I  only  had  some  one  to  help  me  I  could  kill 
a  score  of  such  curs  and  brutes !" 

But  down  the  sides  of  the  undefended  trenches,  and  up 
from  the  depths  of  the  hazelwood,  swept  a  wave  of  compact 
fighting-men,  before  whom  the  Polwart  faction  fell  back 
amazed,  or  turned  and  fled  after  firing  a  few  hasty  shots. 
Something  about  the  new-comers — something  darker,  grim- 
mer, more  determined — in  a  moment  reduced  the  Level- 
lers to  mere  herdsmen  and  country  ploughmen.  Tredennis 
noted  the  difference  in  a  moment. 

"  If  Fitzgeorge  and  Collinson  have  to  face  these  fel- 
lows," he  thought,  "  they  will  know  a  difference." 

More  fortunate  than  the  soldier,  or  perhaps  favored 
by  those  who  had  tied  him,  the  minister  had  succeeded 
in  twisting  his  hands  loose.  And  just  as  Harry  Polwart, 
foaming  with  impotent  fury,  drew  his  knife  and  was 
groping  for  Tredennis  to  plunge  it  into  his  breast,  crying, 
"  You,  at  least,  shall  not  escape !"  the  minister  of  Bal- 
maghie,  who  had  been  a  wrestler  in  his  youth,  tripped  him 
up,  and  sent  him  flying  headlong  down  the  slope. 

"  The  Lord  forgive  me  for  using  the  arm  of  flesh !"  he 
said,  as  the  gypsy  disappeared  among  the  water-side  bushes 
with  a  crash. 

"  I  owe  you  my  thanks,  sir,"  said  Tredennis,  "  you  saved 
my  life !  I  think  your  arm  of  flesh  was  indeed  the  very 
arm  of  Providence  to  me." 

"  Well  taken,  but  disputable,  sir,"  returned  the  minister. 
"  I  should  like  a  more  convenient  season  to  argue  the 
matter  at  length.  But  here  are  others,  who,  I  fear,  have 
also  boen  using  the  arm  of  flesh  !" 

It  was  Silver  Sand  who  came  up,  putting  back  a  dis- 
charged pistol  in  his  belt,  while  his  brother  Hector  as 
carefully  wiped  his  sword  before  resheathing  it,  and  Ma- 
rion sank  down  on  a  fallen  tree,  and,  covering  her  face 

418 


THE    STOKMING    OF    THE    CAMP 

with  her  hands,  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears.     All  was 
over! 

The  camp  was  in  the  hands  of  the  attacking  party  within 
tive  minutes  of  firing  the  first  shot.  This  was  owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  assailants  found  the  first  defences  and  out- 
works in  the  hands  of  Marion  and  her  followers,  and  it 
did  not  take  long  for  my  father  and  Silver  Sand  to  con- 
vince her  that  we  were  there  as  friends.  During  the 
negotiations  Hector  Faa,  of  course,  kept  in  the  background. 
But  when  the  attack  was  made  on  Polwart's  faction  IMarion 
charged  by  his  side,  and,  to  do  myself  justice,  I  do  not 
think  that  I  was  more  than  three  paces  behind  them — not 
from  lack  of  will,  but  because  of  the  halt  in  my  gait,  which 
was  the  result  of  Harry  Polwart's  knife  thrust  at  the 
Shiel  of  Buchan.  However,  in  spite  of  this,  I  arrived  at 
the  top  of  the  mound  in  time  to  see  the  blind  gypsy 
emerge  dripping  from  the  water  and  disappear  into  the 
coverts  of  the  Hollan  Isle. 

Then  I  turned  and  ran  at  full  speed  back  to  the  hut  in 
front  of  which  the  blue  flag  of  the  Levellers  hung  limp 
on  its  staff. 

Joyce  stood  within  the  door-way  with  both  her  hands 
pressed  upon  her  heart.    I  caught  her  in  my  arms. 

"  You  are  not  married  ?"  I  gasped  out.  For  that  fear 
was  ever  before  my  mind. 

"Are  they  dead — are  they  dead?  Has  Harry  killed 
them  ?"  she  cried,  not  answering  my  question. 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  ?"  I  said,  much  surprised,  for, 
of  course,  at  that  time  I  knew  nothing  of  what  had  taken 
place  in  the  camp  after  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Macmillan. 

"  Captain  Tredennis  and  the  minister !"  she  said. 
"  Harrv  Polwart  took  them  out  to  kill  them  by  the  water- 
side !"  " 

"They  are  both  safe  and  unhurt,"  I  answered  her,  a 
little  piqued  that  at  such  a  moment  she  could  think  of 
anything  but  my  coming  to  rescue  her. 

419 


THE     DARK    0'     THE     MOON 

At  this  moment  Hector  Faa  came  in,  and  Joyce  ran 
gladly  to  him. 

"  My  father !"  she  cried,  and  threw  her  arms  about  the 
gypsy,  dropping  her  head  on  his  breast. 

He  looked  over  her  shoulder  at  me  with  a  sad  and  even 
wistful  expression  on  his  face. 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  a  little  more  bitterly  than  I  thought 
the  circumstances  called  for,  "  this  is  a  good  deal  to  give 
up,  even  to  a  lover  of  your  quality !" 

"  Sir,"  I  answered  him,  "  I  have  told  you  already  that 
I  love  your  daughter  with  all  my  heart,  and  have  done 
so  ever  since  I  first  looked  upon  her.  If  you  give  her  to 
me  as  my  wife,  she  will  not  be  the  less  your  daughter  for 
that." 

"  'Tis  all  you  know !"  he  observed,  and  went  out  ab- 
ruptly. 

Then,  forgetting  Hector  Faa's  bitterness,  and  disregard- 
ing all  the  noise  and  turmoil  without,  I  clasped  my  love 
again  in  my  arms. 

"  You  have  not  answered  my  question,"  I  said.  "  Sure- 
ly I  am  in  time — you  are  not  married  to  Harry  Pol- 
wart?" 

"Would  I  be  here  if  I  were?"  she  answered,  simply, 
looking  at  me. 

And  I  thought  it  was  strange  that  she  never  asked  of  the 
gypsy — whether  he  was  dead  or  alive — nor  said  one  word 
about  the  promise  she  had  made,  but  only  clung  to  me 
and  trembled. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,"  she  said,  "  only  1  feared  you 
might  come  too  late." 

"  That  I  should  have  found  you  married  ?"  I  asked  her, 
to  see  what  she  would  say. 

"  That  you  would  have  found  me  dead !"  she  whis- 
pered. 

And  out  of  her  pocket  she  drew  the  one  of  my  father's 
pistols  that  I  had  given  her  when  she  rode  away  to  Rathan 

420 


THE    STOEMING    OF    THE    CAMP 

with  Davie  Veitch,  from  the  Loch  Fergus  brae-face,  where 
we  had  met  her  on  the  morning  of  her  escape  from  Mac- 
lellan's  Wark. 

"  But  I  should  have  kept  my  promise,"  she  said,  glancing 
significantly  at  the  pistol. 


LIV 

THE    BURSTING    OF    A    SHELL 

SO  great  was  the  scene  of  excitement  and  disorder  in 
the  camp  of  the  Levellers  after  the  unexpected  incur- 
sion of  Hector  Faa  and  his  men,  that  Austin  Tredennis, 
still  shackled  at  ankle  and  wrist,  grimly  remarked  to  him- 
self that  if  Gunter  and  Collinson  had  followed  up  his  foot- 
steps, as  had  been  arranged,  now  was  their  time. 

But  it  was  remarkable  within  how  short  a  space  Hector 
Faa  had  all  into  order  again — ^liis  men  at  their  posts,  the 
trenches  manned,  a  lookout  set  on  the  Duchrae  Crags  to 
the  south,  and  another  perched  on  the  woody  summit  of 
little  Mount  Pleasant  to  scan  the  open  country  to  the 
north.  Yet,  with  a  certain  nobility  which  has  more  than 
once  peeped  through  during  this  history,  Hector  continued 
to  issue  his  orders  as  if  he  had  been  subordinate  in  au- 
thority to  Marion. 

Yet  Captain  Dick  o'  the  Isle  rather  tacitly  permitted 
him  to  do  this,  than  take  any  further  share  in  the  arrange- 
ments. The  burden  of  affairs  had  grown  too  heavy  for 
her.  The  brave,  and  even  gay,  confidence  with  M'hich  she 
had  taken  up  her  task  had  vanished.  Even  lier  enthusi- 
asm for  the  oppressed  no  longer  sustained  her. 

"  I  am  not  sufficient  for  these  things,"  she  mourned. 
"  He  was  right.  I  had  better  go  l)ack  to  Isle  Rathan, 
and  get  my  mother  to  teach  me  how  to  bake  scones,  or  share 
Joyce's  knitting  and  embroidery." 

She  was  determined  to  call  a  council  of  the  Levellers 
422 


THE    BUESTING    OF   A    SHELL 

and  la}^  her  resignation  before  them.  Twice  she  had  been 
displaced — once  openly  defied  by  Harry  Polwart.  The  two 
parties  seemed  irreconcilable — one  ready  to  submit  on  al- 
most any  terras,  the  other  eager  for  measures  of  blood 
and  vengeance  which  she  could  not  countenance.  Then, 
to  make  impossible  what  had  been  difficult  enough  before, 
there  was  this  new  element — the  wild  gypsy  company  from 
the  outmost  hills,  outlaws  to  a  man,  fierce  and  insubor- 
dinate to  the  control  of  any  council,  yet  united  and  deter- 
mined so  far  as  their  own  leader  was  concerned. 

Last  of  all,  there  was  Captain  Austin  Tredennis ! 

As  she  thought  on  these  things,  there  were  not  many 
more  puzzled  young  women  in  the  land  of  the  Picts  that 
dark  October  noontide  than  Marion  of  the  Isle.  To  add  to 
the  perplexities  of  the  situation,  the  snow,  which  had  been 
threatening  so  long,  began  to  fall  all  over  the  Duchrae 
Wood  in  a  lawny  sift  of  finest  fiakes.  So  it  came  about 
that  there  Avere  two  councils  sitting  at  one  time  in  solemn 
deliberation — or,  rather,  three;  but  with  that  third  we 
have  at  present  nothing  to  do.  The  first  was  the  solemn 
and  regular  convocation  of  the  Levellers  summoned  by 
Marion.  The  second,  of  a  more  private  and  informal 
nature,  consisted  of  my  father,  Silver  Sand,  Hector  Faa, 
Joyce,  the  minister,  and  myself.  Tredennis,  unbound  and 
on  parole,  was  seated  some  distance  off,  his  great  frieze 
cloak  wrapped  about  him,  rolling  cigarettes  in  the  Spanish 
manner  as  calmly  as  if  he  had  been  watching  his  troopers 
watering  their  horses. 

As  to  the  third — far  down  the  valley,  dripping  wet  and 
furiously  angry,  the  blind  gypsy  and  his  henchman  Peter 
Kelly  held  a  yet  more  informal  conference. 

The  weighty  consultations  of  the  Levellers  may  escape 
with  brief  notice.  j\Iarion  laid  her  resignation  before  them 
and  gave  an  account  of  her  stewardship.  She  advised  them 
that,  after  making  certain  conditions,  they  should  disband 
and  return  to  their  own  homes.     She  offered  to  be  their 

423 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

envoy  to  the  authorities  in  Kirkcudbright,  and  she  de- 
clared my  father's  willingness  to  accompany  her  and  to 
be  her  sponsor  on  such  a  mission.  These  and  many  other 
emergent  matters  were  discussed,  wisely,  no  doubt,  and 
certainly  with  much  heat.  They  were  duly  voted  upon, 
and  the  negative  or  aiMrmative  adopted.  But  as  subsequent 
circumstances  rendered  inoperative  and  nugatory  the 
whole  of  them,  1  need  not  take  up  my  now  scanty  space 
with  an  account  of  them. 

On  the  other  hand,  anything  more  brief,  more  instinct 
with  life  and  surprise  than  the  deliberations  of  the  in- 
formal council  round  the  headquarters  staff  and  the  blue 
St.  Andrew's  cross,  it  has  never  fallen  to  my  lot  to 
chronicle. 

It  was  Hector  Faa  who,  after  nodding  to  his  brother 
and  making  a  bow  to  my  father,  opened  the  negotiations. 

"  We  have  a  little  time,"  he  said,  "  and  I  will  say  what 
I  have  to  say  briefly.  I  came  here  with  my  good  fellows 
in  obedience  to  the  summons  of  my  brother,  who,  whatever 
difference  may  have  arisen  between  us  in  the  past,  I  shall 
ever  acknowledge  as  the  chief  of  the  clan  and  only  Lord 
and  Earl  of  little  Egypt." 

1  looked  for  Silver  Sand  to  acknowledge  this  courtesy, 
but  he  took  it  simply  as  the  statement  of  a  right  unques- 
tionable. 

"  But  I  came  also  because  I  had  two  private  matters  to 
rectify — one  connected  with  the  maid  Joyce,  who  has 
hitherto  passed  as  my  daughter — " 

Then,  with  a  quick  cry,  Joyce  threw  her  arms  about  his 
neck,  crying,  "  Oh,  father !  am  I  not  then  your  daughter  ?" 

He  shook  his  head  sadly  and  kindly. 

"  No,  Joyce,"  he  said,  holding  her  a  little  way  from  him 
and  looking  into  her  face,  "  that  is  what  I  have  to  tell." 

"  Then,"  she  cried,  "  you  have  always  been  a  father  to 
me !  T  will  not  leave  you !  I  love  you  as  much  as  if  you 
were !" 

424 


THE    BURSTING    OF    A    SHELL 

I  could  see  the  gypsy  flush  with  a  eertain  pleasure 
through  his  swarthy  color  and  deep,  sunburnt  tan. 

"  You  have  indeed  been  the  best  of  daughters,"  he  said. 
"  But  I  have  come  to  undo  as  best  I  can  an  ancient  wrong. 
Joyce,  you  are  not  my  daughter !  I  took  you  out  of  your 
dead  father's  arms  on  board  a  sinking  ship.  I  went  with 
you  to  Paris,  where,  in  the  same  convent  in  which  my 
poor  wife  had  been  brought  up,  the  good  nuns  received 
and  educated  you.  At  this  distance  of  time  it  might  have 
been  somewhat  difficult  to  prove  your  real  identity,  save 
that  your  father,  being  on  his  way  to  Scotland  on  legal 
business  connected  with  his  wish  that  you  should  succeed 
to  his  title,  had  an  unusually  complete  series  of  documents 
in  his  possession  when  he  died.  I  have  taken  care,  in  con- 
Junction  with  an  excellent  French  lawyer,  that  at  no  stage 
should  your  identity  be  in  danger  of  being  lost  or  ques- 
tioned. I  have  placed  these  papers  in  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Patrick  Heron,  of  Isle  Rathan  and  Orraland,  who  will  pro- 
duce them  upon  occasion." 

"  A  title  !"  thought  I,  with  some  consternation.  "  Joyce 
Faa  with  a  title — property  also,  doubtless!  Perhaps  in 
that  case  she  will  not  think  of  me !" 

But  Joyce  sat  unmoved,  watching  Hector  Faa's  face, 
and  at  intervals  laying  her  hand  sympathetically  upon 
his  arm. 

"  For  some  time,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  seen  that  it 
would  be  impossible  much  longer  to  maintain  myself 
among  my  native  mountains.  I  have  a  presentiment  also 
that — the  end  will  not  be  long  delayed.  I  wished,  there- 
fore, that  Joyce  might  tlnd  herself  a  mate  suitable  to  the 
rank  in  which  she  would  be  placed.  For  this  purpose, 
therefore,  I  carried  off  a  young  man  of  property  and  posi- 
tion who  fell  accidentally  in  my  way.  I  let  the  young 
couple  be  much  together.  All  seemed  to  be  going  well 
for  some  months,  when  I  sent  my  brother  Silver  Sand 
with  certain  proposals  to  this  young  gentleman  which,  if 

435 


THE    DAKK    0'     THE     MOON 

they  had  heen  accepted  at  the  time,  would  have  saved  a 
vast  deal  of  trouble  to  all  concerned." 

Here,  as  may  well  be  believed,  I  blushed  hotly  with 
shame;  but  Joyce  broke  in  with  all  her  kind  heart  in  her 
voice,  eager  to  clear  me  of  any  blame : 

"  It  was  not  Maxwell's  fault,  father — it  was  I  who 
refused  I" 

And  at  that  I  was  fairly  drowned  in  shame,  as,  indeed, 
I  had  good  reason  to  be,  remembering  the  long  look  with 
which,  by  the  shores  of  Enoch,  she  had  appealed  to  me, 
and  how  I  had  let  that  mute  question  fall  to  the  ground 
unanswered  in  her  hour  of  need.  How  these  women  shame 
us  when  our  love  is  set  fairly  against  theirs ! 

Hector  Faa  let  his  hand  rest  caressingly  on  Joyce's  hair, 
but  a  slightly  sardonic  smile  still  flickered  across  his 
countenance. 

"  Well,  it  may  be  so,"  he  said,  grimly,  "  at  all  events, 
my  offer  was  refused.  And  though  severity  is  always 
painful  to  me  in  dealing  with  young  people,  I  was  com- 
pelled to  try  other  measures.  But  my  hand  was  forced, 
for  Joyce  here,  taking  too  seriously  some  random  words  of 
mine,  obtained  Maxwell  Heron's  escape  by  means  of  a 
foolish  bargain  with  a  false  and  perjured  clansman  of 
mine — with  whom,  when  I  meet  him,  I  will  yet  reckon 
once  for  all,  as  very  well  he  knows !" 

"  Hush,  father !"  said  Joyce ;  "  let  him  go.  He  was 
always  kind  and  good  to  me !" 

"  I  shall  not  forget — I  shall  not  forget !"  said  Hector. 
"  He  shall  go  the  easier  for  that !" 

But  the  grim  determination  on  his  face  did  not  relax, 
and  though  I  felt  the  implied  scorn  in  his  tone  when  he 
spoke  of  me,  I  was  glad  that  I  had  not  come  under  the 
major  ban  which  he  had  laid  upon  Harry  Polwart.  The 
countenance  of  the  blind  gypsy  was  terrible  enough  in 
anger,  but  there  was  something  infinitely  more  daunting  in 
the  steely  glitter  of  Hector  Faa's  eyes  as  he  spoke  of  his 

426 


THE    BURSTING    OF    A    SHELL 

enemy.  I  would  rather  have  faced  Harry  Polwart  a  thou- 
sand times. 

"  I  have  little  more  to  say,"  said  Hector  Faa,  slowly 
dropping  his  words  as  if  with  an  effort  to  choose  them 
aright.  "  Let  the  young  man  to  whom  I  confide  this 
maiden,  whom  I — love  as  a  daughter — stand  forward." 

But  here  Joyce,  at  last  evading  his  restraining  hand, 
rose  and  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck.  And  as  she 
hid  her  face  in  his  breast,  he  continued,  looking  at  me, 
"  I  can  trust  this  voung  man.  I  think  he  loves  her 
truly !" 

He  paused  a  moment  with  a  bitter  smile,  gently  dis- 
engaging her  arms.  Then  he  took  her  hand  and  put  it 
in  mine.    It  was  chill  and  trembled. 

"  Though,  had  the  thing  been  possible,  I  know  not  but 
I  would  have  preferred  to  confide  her  to  the  lad's  father, 
my  most  ancient  enemy !" 

It  was  a  doubtful  conclusion  enough,  though  in  full 
accordance  with  the  character  of  the  man. 

So  there  I  stood,  with  Joyce's  hand  in  mine,  striving  for 
speech;  yet  speech  would  not  come  to  me  till  Joyce  her- 
self, the  wiser  and  braver  of  us  two,  pressed  my  hand  and 
spoke  out  before  them  all : 

"  None  of  you  know  Maxwell  Heron  as  I  know  him ! 
Not  one  of  you  can  know  him — no,  not  his  own  father !  It 
is  easy  for  men  to  ride  here  and  there  killing  and  cutting 
and  shooting;  but  to  treat  an  outlaw's  daughter  as  if  she 
were  a  great  lady — " 

"  So  she  is,"  smiled  my  father. 

"  But  he  did  not  know  it — even  if  it  be  true  !  No !  I  will 
not  be  stopped,  even  by  you,  sir.  To  be  thoughtful  and 
tender  as  a  woman,  brave  as  any  man,  to  be  as  ready  to 
dare  all  for  me  as  to  give  up  his  most  cherished  purposes 
to  please  me — few  women  find  these  things.  And  I  have 
found  them !" 

"  Thank  you,  Jovce,"  I  said ;  "  from  my  heart  I  thank 
427 


THE    DARK    0'    THE    MOON 

you !  I  do  not  deserve  these  words,  gentlemen,  but  from 
this  day  I  will  try — " 

"  No,  of  course  you  do  not  deserve  them,  you  rascal !" 
cried  my  father,  who  for  some  reason  was  in  high  good 
humor ;  "  an  angel  from  heaven  would  not  deserve  all 
that.  But "  (here  he  advanced  towards  Joyce  with  a  thick 
roll  of  papers  between  his  fingers)  "  I  am  permitted  by 
your — guardian — to  have  the  honor  of  first  saluting  you 
as  the  Lady  Joyce,  in  your  own  right  Viscountess  Tre- 
dennis !" 

"  Thank  Heaven !"  I  murmured  in  her  ear.  "  I  feared 
you  would  be  a  duchess  at  least !" 

"  With  regard  to  the  estates,"  he  continued,  "  I  under- 
stand that  they  are  administered  by  the  Court  of  Chancery 
pending  the  establishment  of  your  claims.  As  to  the  title, 
we  are  likely  to  have  trouble  with  the  next  of  kin — " 

As  my  father  spoke,  the  tall,  drover-like  man,  with  the 
six-days  beard  bristling  black  all  over  his  face,  who  had 
been  sitting  on  a  stump  in  profound  abstraction,  threw 
away  his  cigarette,  and,  advancing  with  much  delibera- 
tion, saluted  the  company  in  the  military  manner. 

"  I  have  not  been  able  to  avoid  overhearing  parts  of  your 
conversation,  owing  to  the  fact  that  you  have  chosen  the 
limit  of  my  parole  for  your  conference.  But  let  me  intro- 
duce myself  as  Captain  Austin  Tredennis,  of  Ligonier's 
Horse.  My  dear  cousin,  I  salute  and  congratulate  you ! 
I  shall  claim  cousinly  privileges  later,  when — ah  ! — when 
I  have  the  good  fortune  to  encounter  a  razor.  Meantime, 
I  can  assure  you,  madam,  as  your  sole  relative  on  this  side 
of  Hades,  that  you  will  have  no  opposition  from  me,  but  on 
the  contrary  every  assistance  in  the  establishment  of  your 
claims." 

He  looked  round  him  with  hearty  kindness  on  his  face, 
but  even  as  he  spoke  his  countenance  changed.  His  quick 
ear,  accustomed  to  military  sounds,  had  caught  something 
we  could  not  distinguish,  and  the  next  moment  the  ground 

428 


THE    BURSTING    OF    A    SHELL 

was  shaken  with  a  tremendous  report.  Fragments  of 
boughs  and  shivered  wood  were  dashed  everywhere,  and 
the  black,  mossy  earth  was  splashed  in  our  faces. 

''  Great  God  !"  he  cried,  "  where  is  Marion  ?  Pull  down 
that  flag !  The  troops  have  arrived  and  they  are  shelling 
the  camp  V 


LV 

TREDENNIS'S    WAY    OF    MARRIAGE 

IT  was  true.  The  end  liad  come  upon  iis,  and  at  a  most 
unpropitious  moment.  How  his  ^lajesty's  troops  had 
arrived  so  near  without  being  seen  by  the  watchers  was  a 
thing  inexplicable,  and  seemed  clearly  to  point  to  treachery 
somewhere. 

The  first  shell  had  fallen  down  among  the  ashes  of  the 
watch-fires  on  the  green  in  front  of  the  Hollan  Isle,  scat- 
tering the  turf  and  wounding  two  or  three  men  who  were 
preparing  dinner,  though,  perhaps  owing  to  the  fact  that 
the  shell  buried  itself  deeply  before  exploding,  not  very 
seriously  in  any  case. 

Then  the  scouts  and  messengers  came  pouring  in.  The 
enemy,  it  seemed,  were  advancing  in  two  columns  from 
opposite  directions.  The  first,  with  more  than  one  piece 
of  considerable  caliber,  had  evidently  crossed  at  the 
shallows  above  the  stepping-stones ;  while  the  other,  taking 
up  a  strong  position  to  the  south,  had  occupied  the  long 
ridge  of  the  Folds,  driving  in  the  little  outpost  on  the 
Duchrae  Craigs. 

"There!"  cried  Tredennis,  giving  orders  as  if  to  his 
men,  "  yonder  comes  another !  Get  into  the  trenches  and 
lie  down !    IVFarion,  do  as  I  bid  you  !" 

And,  indeed,  all  of  us  except  Silver  Sand  and  his 
brother  immediately  took  refuge  in  the  deep  trench  which 
surrounded  the  main  camp.  I  fairly  dragged  Joyce  after 
me.    The  next  projectile  passed  overhead  with  a  hiss,  and 

430 


TREDENNIS'S    WAY    OF    MARRIAGE  - 

fell  with  a  shattering  crash  on  the  poor  little  hut  that  had 
been  IMarion's  headquarters,  knocking  it  to  pieces,  and 
laying  bare  the  pitiable  makeshifts  which  Joyce  had 
added  from  her  experience  of  shielings  and  other  tem- 
porary abodes  among  the  hills. 

Tredennis  had  taken  refuge  with  the  others;  but  with 
soldierly  readiness  he  was  out  again,  pointing  to  where 
the  little  puff  of  smoke  still  hung  high  above  the  rocky 
side  of  the  Crae  Hill. 

"  There  they  are — regular  artillery,  too,"  he  said. 
"  Now  down  with  that  flag !    It  is  your  only  safety  !" 

And  as  he  spoke  he  advanced  to  loosen  the  halyards; 
but  Hector  Faa  stepped  in  front  with  a  sneer  upon  his 
dark  face. 

"  You  are,  as  I  understand,  a  prisoner  on  parole,"  he 
said.  "  Be  good  enough  to  remember  your  position,  and 
let  the  flag  alone  I" 

"  Is  it  the  flag  you  fight  under  ?"  said  Tredennis,  as 
fiercely  glancing  aloft  at  the  blue  St.  Andrew's  cross,  Avith 
the  Ijevellers'  motto,  "  A  Free  Land  and  a  Free  Folk," 
embroidered  across  its  folds.  "  I  think  the  skull  and  cross- 
bones  would  suit  you  better !"  He  muttered  this  below 
his  breath.  For  he  had  all  the  soldier's  hatred  for  the 
lurking  outlaw  who  is  likely  to  cost  him  more  trouble  than 
a  dozen  campaigns,  without  any  equivalent  honor  attaching 
either  to  his  killing  or  capture. 

Nevertheless  Tredennis  restrained  his  temper,  and  point- 
ed out  to  Hector  Faa  that  it  was  impossible  to  hold  out 
for  a  single  day  in  the  camp,  which  was,  indeed,  obviously 
at  the  mercy  of  a  force  with  artillery  planted  on  the 
heights  of  the  Crae. 

Meanwhile  Silver  Sand  also  whispered  almost  inces- 
santly in  his  brother's  ear.  Marion  strode  to  and  fro,  see- 
ing that  the  men  were  in  the  best  places  for  protection. 
But  her  heart  was  black  and  bitter  within  her. 

"  These  are  the  men  whom  I  have  buoyed  up  with  false 
431 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

hopes !"  she  thought.  '"  Their  forfeited  lives  will  lie  at 
m}^  door — all  honest  lads,  simple  and  easily  led !  Oh,  if  I 
could  save  them  how  gladly  would  1  give  my  life !" 

]\Iore  than  once  Tredennis  warned  her  to  get  to  cover. 
But  she  broke  from  him,  crying,  "  Let  me  die !  I  have 
been  the  ruin  of  all  these  !    Why  should  I  live  ?" 

Then  the  soldier,  his  eye  ever  on  the  opposite  slopes  of 
the  hill,  from  which,  through  the  chill,  thin-dropping 
snow-veil  came  ever  and  anon  the  red  tongue  of  fire,  saw 
the  little  white  cloud  of  smoke,  and  heard  then  the  answer- 
ing roar,  hiss,  and  explosion  as  the  shell  buried  itself  in 
the  earthworks  of  the  camp  wood. 

Though  the  thing  was  now  quite  feasible,  escape  did  not 
once  cross  Tredennis's  mind.  He  must  get  Marion  out 
of  this  wolf-trap  first,  and  then — well,  he  would  see. 

Then,  observing  my  father  and  Silver  Sand  in  deep  con- 
sultation, Tredennis  stepped  over  to  them  and  saluted. 

"  Gentlemen,  this  is  going  to  be  a  mere  butchery !"  he 
began,  abruptly.  "  These  men  cannot  resist  either  artil- 
lery or  a  bayonet  charge  any  more  than  a  flock  of  sheep 
in  a  pen.  I  know  well  what  his  Majesty's  soldiers  will  do. 
Whatever  his  faults  may  be,  CoUinson  is  a  soldier,  and  he 
will  move  round  to  the  right  and  gradually  shut  you  in. 
Then  he  will  attack  the  camp  with  the  bayonet  under  cover 
of  his  artillery  from  the  opposite  heights.  Now  I  see  the 
northward  road  is  still  open.  If  there  is  a  vigorous  resist- 
ance to  the  south  and  east  for  half  an  hour  Collinson  will 
be  delayed.  ]\Iore  than  that,  it  is  probable  that  the  firing 
of  the  cannon  will  bring  down  the  snow.  In  either  case, 
the  troops  may  wait  till  morning,  or  at  least  give  sufficient 
time  to  draw  the  men  oft'.  That  is  tlieir  only  chance.  Let 
the  poor  fellows  slip  away  to  the  north  and  scatter  each 
to  his  own  hiding-place.  I  do  not  think  there  would  be 
any  very  eager  pursuit,  and  certainly  no  killing  unless 
they  are  taken  with  arms  in  their  hands." 

"  And  the  women  ?"  said  my  father.    "  We  cannot  have 
432 


TREDENNIS'S    WAY    OF    MAREIAGE 

two  girls  out  all  night  in  a  snow-storm,  or  left  to  the  mercy 
of  some  hundreds  of  victorious  soldiers !" 

The  minister  of  Balmaghie  had  come  up  during  this 
colloquy. 

"  There  is  a  good  boat  at  the  Ehone  Foot,"  he  suggested, 
"  the  ferry-boat — good  for  a  dozen,  at  a  pinch.  And  I 
never  saw  the  night  so  dark  that  I  could  not  undertake  to 
conduct  them  there — ay,  and  steer  you  down  the  river,  too ! 
Then,  when  we  arrive  at  the  manse,  the  ladies  can  wait  till 
the  morning.  Or  your  two  horses  are  there,  and  those  in 
the  chiefest  danger  can  ride  on  without  loss  of  time  out  of 
reach  of  any  pursuit." 

"  I  will  speak  to  my  brother,"  said  Silver  Sand,  going 
over  to  Hector,  who  remained  by  the  flag-staff,  to  all 
appearance  entirely  unmoved.  They  whispered  awhile 
together. 

"  I  will  do  it,"  he  said,  nodding  gravely,  after  a  pause 
for  consideration.  And  instantly  summoning  his  men  with 
the  silver  call,  he  made  his  way  towards  the  rapidly  ap- 
proaching enemy  through  the  thick  brush  which  sheltered 
the  camp  upon  the  south  and  east. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  rattle  of  musketry  was  heard, 
and  Austin  Tredennis  heaved  a  sigh. 

"  If  old  Fitzgeorge  is  there,  that  should  be  enough  to 
stop  him  for  the  night — that  is,  if  he  has  a  farm  kitchen 
to  use  as  headquarters.  The  mischief  is  that,  after  all,  it 
may  be  Collinson.  In  that  case  I  stand  a  chance  of 
finding  my  back  to  a  wall  and  a  firing  party  six  paces  to 
my  front !" 

In  a  few  seconds  Silver  Sand,  passing  from  group  to 
group,  had  communicated  the  intelligence  to  the  Levellers 
that  further  resistance  was  hopeless.  Indeed,  from  the 
moment  when  the  first  puff  of  smoke  upon  the  Crae  Hill 
had  told  that  the  troops  had  artillery  with  them,  the  end 
had  been  self-evident. 

But  just  then  the  long-threatening  snow-cloud,  whether 
28  433 


THE     DARK    0'     THE     MOON 

brought  down  by  the  heavy  firing  or  no,  at  last  descended, 
and  in  five  minutes  all  the  Duchrae  Wood  was  filled  with 
the  scattering  white  particles,  eddying  and  chasing  each 
other  like  kittens  at  play.  There  was  no  wind,  and  the 
fall  was  so  steady  that  soon  the  Crae  Hill  was  blotted  out. 
Tlie  slia^gy.  heathery  summits,  along  which  in  the  greenish 
gloom  the  red  flashing  of  the  assailants'  muskets  could  be 
clearly  seen,  were  also  lost  in  the  storm.  Then  nearer  at 
hand  the  lithe  defenders,  darting  from  clump  to  clump 
and  from  copse  to  copse,  were  also  shut  out  of  view.  And 
the  heart  of  Austin  Tredennis  grew  lighter  and  lighter 
with  each  successive  disappearance,  and  as  the  firing  waxed 
fainter  the  Spanish  tobacco  of  his  cigarette  seemed  ap- 
preciably to  improve  in  quality. 

By  this  time  those  of  us  whose  duty  it  was  to  accompany 
Joyce  and  IMarion  were  ready  to  make  our  first  attempt. 
The  men  of  the  Levellers  who  were  not  actively  employed 
with  Hector's  men  in  repelling  the  fury  of  the  enemy's 
attack  were  already  stealing  away  through  the  hazels  along 
the  water-side  towards  the  Raider's  Bridge.  From  this 
place  it  was  easy  for  them  to  scatter  over  the  wild  and 
trackless  moor  which  extends  for  thirty  miles  in  almost 
every  direction  from  the  Flowe  of  ]\Iossdale.  All  was 
going  well  for  the  successful  evacuation  of  the  camp. 

But  there  was  yet  Marion  to  be  reckoned  with. 

Tredennis  went  up  to  her,  as  she  stood  with  a  kind  of 
angry  desperation  on  her  face.  The  soldier  looked  so  alert, 
so  strong  and  purposeful,  that  a  quick.  Jealous  anger  was 
kindled  within  her.    It  came  easily  in  these  days. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  glad  " — she  lashed  the  words  upon 
him  like  a  weapon — "  glad  that  your  soldiers  will  butcher 
these  poor  fellows,  who  have  done  no  wrong  to  you  or  any 
mortal !" 

"  U  the  poor  fellows  only  do  as  I  advise  them,"  he 
answered,  calmly,  "  I  do  not  think  that  one  of  them  will 
be  killed,  except  by  accident." 

434 


TKEDENNIS'S    WAY    OF    MAERIAGE 

And  he  pointed  out  to  the  girl  the  groups  of  ten  and  a 
dozen,  already  white  from  head  to  foot  with  the  falling 
snow,  stealing  aAvay  towards  the  Hollan  Isle  and  the 
bridge-head. 

Then,  as  they  stood  and  watched,  there  came  clear  from 
the  north  the  rattle  of  musketry,  and  a  crying  of  huz- 
zas which  did  not  come  from  the  lips  of  the  defenders. 
There  was  something  disciplined  even  in  the  sound.  Tre- 
dennis's  face  flamed.  The  combat  was  certainly  coming 
nearer. 

"  I  fear  Hector  Faa's  men  are  falling  back.  It  may  be 
Collinson,  after  all.    You  must  leave  immediately !" 

The  girl  shook  her  head. 

"  No !"  she  said,  decidedly,  "  I  will  stay !  It  has  been 
all  my  fault !  I  brought  them  to  this,  and  I  will  not  run 
from  the  consequences !" 

Tredennis  bit  his  lip  to  repress  a  desire  to  shake  her. 

"  Will  you  not  go  if  I  tell  you  it  is  best  both  for  you 
and  for  all  these  that  you  should  not  be  taken?" 

Marion  still  shook  her  head. 

"  Listen !"  he  cried,  impetuously.  "  Once  for  all  I 
promise  you  that  I  will  see  all  your  Levellers  safe  out  of 
this  trap  before  I  go !  I  know  what  the  soldiers  will  do, 
and  the  plans  that  have  been  formed.  I  have  nothing  to 
do  with  these  gypsies  and  outlaws,  or  they  with  me.  But 
if  you  will  do  as  I  say  I  promise  you  the  lives  of  your 
Levellers — every  man  of  them !  You  know  you  can  trust 
me  to  keep  my  word.    Now  will  you  go  ?" 

"  I  cannot !"  she  said,  sadly  and  fixedly. 

The  angry  blood  flamed  in  Tredennis's  face.  He  caught 
her  fiercely  by  the  arm. 

"  But  I  bid  you  !    You  shall  go  !" 

"  Indeed !"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him  with  something 
strange  in  her  eyes.  "  And  pray  what  do  you  propose  to 
do?     To  come  with  me?" 

"  I  shall  wait  till  every  Leveller  is  clear  out  of  this 
435 


THE    DARK    0'     THE    MOON 

slaughter-pen,"  he  said,  "then  I  shall  go  straight  out 
yonder  to  my  comrades  !" 

"  Ah,  to  your  friends !"  sneered  Marion.  "  And  pray 
what  will  happen  then  ?  Perhaps  you  will  set  them  on  our 
track  r 

"  I  shall  tell  the  truth  to  the  general,"  he  said.  The 
girl  never  once  took  her  eyes  off  his  face. 

"  In  every  particular  ?"  she  inquired,  in  a  low  voice  that 
was  almost  a  whisper.     "  About — about  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  about  you !"  he  said,  strongly  and  firmly — "  you 
and  myself !" 

"  And  what  will  happen  then  ?"  Now  her  voice  came 
fast  and  faltering. 

"  I  shall  probably  be  tried  by  court-martial  and  shot 
for  treason !"  he  said,  looking  at  her  full  in  the  eyes. 

Marion  gasped.    A  little,  sharp  cry  rose  in  her  throat. 

"  No !"  she  exclaimed,  catching  him  swiftly  and  fiercely 
in  her  arms,  "  you  shall  not !  Come  with  us — with  me ! 
We  will  go  away  somewhere !  I  will  obey  you !  I  love 
you  !    I  never  meant  to  tell  you,  but  I  love  you  !" 

Tredennis  caught  her  in  his  arms  for  a  moment.  A 
kindly  swirl  of  the  snow  shielded  them. 

"  If  I  come  safely  through  this,  you  will  marry  me  ?" 
he  questioned. 

"  I  will  do  anything — anything  you  wish — only  come  !" 

Tredennis  then  took  the  girl  by  the  arm,  and  led  her 
over  to  the  party  who  were  waiting  to  set  out  for  the 
Rhone  Foot  of  Dee,  under  the  guidance  of  the  minister. 

"  Marion  has  promised  to  marry  me,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
only  a  moment,  but  I  want  to  make  certain.  I  understand 
that  it  is  the  law  of  this  country  that  we  can  be  married 
by  making  a  simple  declaration.  We  have  here  a  justice 
of  the  peace  and  a  minister  of  the  gospel.     Is  it  not  so?" 

"  For  myself  I  decline,  without  proper  cause  shown,  to 
be  a  party  to  any  irregular  and  hasty  marriage !"  said  the 
minister,  firmly. 

436 


TREDENNIS'S    WAY    OF   MAREIAGE 

"  I  would  not  ask  it,  sir,  for  myself,"  said  Tredennis. 
"But  slip-knots  do  not  hold  this  young  lady,  as  perhaps 
you  know.    Marion,  are  you  willing  to  be  my  wife?" 

"  I  am,"  said  Marion,  simply.  Her  hand  was  still  in  the 
strong,  imperious  grasp  of  the  captain  of  horse. 

"  And  I,  Austin  Cavendish  Tredennis,  declare  myself 
your  husband  before  these  witnesses,"  said  the  soldier.  "  I 
understand  that  that  is  sufficient?"  he  added,  addressing 
the  minister. 

"  It  is  certainly  binding !"  assented  Mr.  Macmillan,  re- 
luctantly, "  but  if  either  of  you  were  a  member  of  my 
denomination  I  would  introduce  you  to  the  stool  of  re- 
pentance !" 

"  Then,  by  Heaven,  you  shall  obey  me  now !"  Tredennis 
exclaimed,  swiftly  stooping  and  kissing  the  girl.  Marion 
of  the  Isle  stood  silent  and  apparently  incapable  of  speech, 

"  Go  with  them,"  he  commanded,  "  and  if  I  win  through 
with  life  and  credit  I  will  come  and  claim  you.  But  I  will 
not  have  you  own  a  man  as  your  husband  who  has  dis- 
honored his  name  among  his  fellows.    Good-bye,  Marion," 

And  Marion  went  with  us  without  a  word. 


LVI 

THE  CHIEF  SAVES  THE  CLAN 

A FTER  the  way-going  of  the  party  for  the  Rhone  Foot 
J-X  under  the  charge  of  Mr.  Macmillan,  nothing  could 
have  heen  more  melancholy  than  the  aspect  of  the  camp  in 
the  Duchrae  Wood.  It  was  not  dark  with  the  darkness  of 
night,  but  a  heavy  oppression  of  yellow  frost  fog  weighed 
down  everything.  The  combat  to  the  north  had  died  away 
in  random  splutterings  of  musketry.  The  snow  sifted 
down  thicker  and  thicker  over  all  the  face  of  the  hill  coun- 
try. The  dead  leaves  fell  with  a  melancholy  rustle  as  the 
flakes  accumulated  and  bore  them  down. 

The  officer  in  charge  of  the  troops  on  the  eastern  side 
retired  his  men ;  but  from  the  hidden  breast  of  the  Crae 
Hill  a  random  sliell  still  came  at  intervals,  not  wholly  in- 
accurately, for,  in  spite  of  the  mist,  the  gun  still  preserved 
its  general  direction.  But,  owing  probably  to  some  de- 
flection in  recoil,  most  of  the  shells,  falling  short,  plump- 
ed into  the  darker  waters  of  the  Grenoch  Lane,  or  exploded 
harmlessly  among  the  whins  and  brambles  of  the  Hollan 
Isle.  Hector  Faa  stood  gloomily  by  the  stafl'  from  which 
the  Levellers'  flag  still  drooped,  now  scarce  visible  in  the 
slow,  downward  sift  of  the  snow.  Silver  Sand  busied  him- 
self in  going  to  and  fro,  overseeing  the  escape  of  the  last 
remnant  of  the  Levellers  in  the  direction  of  the  bridge. 

As  l)ofore,  Tredennis  sat  on  a  stump  and  smoked  placid- 
ly. He  said  nothing,  but  wondered  how  far  Marion  and 
the  others  had  proceeded  on  their  journey,  and  who  was 

438 


THE    CHIEF    SAVES    THE    CLAN 

the  idiot  in  charge  of  that  gun  on  the  Crae  Hill.  He  ought 
to  be  cashiered,  Tredennis  thought.  Then  he  looked  at 
his  watch.  It  was  little  past  one  o'clock  of  the  day,  though 
the  temporary  snow-darkness  had  made  it  seem  like  the 
approach  of  night. 

Hector  Faa  strode  towards  liim  as  he  sat  rolling  his 
cigarette. 

"Your  friends  are  over  there,"  he  said,  with  bitter 
quiet ;  "  you  had  better  go  to  them  !" 

"  I  have  not  been  released  from  my  parole,"  said  Tre- 
dennis, curtly. 

"  Then  I  release  you !"  said  Hector  Faa,  abruptly.  "  I 
command  here  !  Go  !  and  quickly  !  ^Ye  do  not  want  you 
here !" 

"If  I  do  go,"  said  Tredennis,  suddenly  exasperated  at 
the  outlaw's  tone,  "it  shall  be  to  my  comrades  over 
there !" 

He  indicated  the  direction  of  the  Crae  Hill,  from  which 
still  came  the  dull  roar  and  plunge  of  the  random  shell. 
"  And  if  I  go,"  he  added,  boldly,  "  I  promise  you  I  shall 
do  better  for  you  than  that !" 

"  Go  to  the  devil,  if  you  like !"  cried  Hector,  fiercely. 
"  Do  anything  you  choose — tell  anything  you  know !  But 
rid  us  of  your  presence,  and  at  once  !    Do  you  hear  ?" 

There  was  hatred — instinctive  and  overpowering — be- 
tween the  two  men. 

Tredennis  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  I  will  go !"  he  said.  "  But  remember,  I  take  you  at 
your  word !  I  go  without  conditions !  If  what  you  say 
is  true,  I  am  under  no  obligations  to  you.  You  have 
kept  my  cousin  out  of  her  name  and  rights  for  twenty 
years !" 

"Ah!"  said  Hector,  with  a  cold  sneer,  "you  were  the 
next  of  kin,  T  am  informed !  I  can  understand  your  dis- 
appointment !  I  dare  say  you  would  have  had  no  objections 
if  I  had  kept  her,  out  of  her  inheritance  altogether !" 

439 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

Tredennis  looked  the  outlaw  full  in  the  face.  He  was, 
of  course,  wholly  unarmed. 

"  You  lie,  and  know  it !"  he  said,  curtly. 

Hector  Faa  laughed  a  short  laugh,  in  which,  however, 
there  was  more  of  respect  than  he  had  yet  shown  for 
Tredennis. 

"  I  can  trust  you,"  he  said.  "  You  may  go  to  your 
friends  when  you  will — you  will  tell  them  nothing.  I 
understand  such  men  as  you !" 

"  You  mistake,"  said  the  other.  "  I  may  indeed  tell 
nothing,  but  I  shall  do  as  I  am  bidden !  And  I  warn  you 
that  I  shall  use  my  own  best  endeavors  to  rid  the  country  of 
such  a  gang  of  desperadoes  as  you  and  your  friends !" 

Hector  Faa  pointed  over  the  trenches,  which  were  now 
held  in  force  by  his  own  following. 

"  There  lies  your  way,'"'  he  said ;  "  you  have  five 
minutes'  law !  For  that  space  none  shall  harm  you.  But 
if  we  come  across  you  in  an  hour  at  the  head  of  your  red- 
coats— why,  then,  you  may  be  reminded  that  you  have  given 
the  lie  direct  to  Hector  Faa !" 

"  You  can  never  be  so  mad  as  to  propose  holding  such 
a  place  as  this  against  King's  troops?"  cried  Tredennis, 
in  amazement. 

"  That,  sir,  is  for  you  to  find  out !"  retorted  Hector, 
coolly.  "  I  came  here  for  my  own  pleasure,  and  I  do  not 
leave  it  for  yours.  ]\Ieantime,  yonder  lies  your  way ! 
Make  use  of  your  five  minutes !" 

And  he  turned  his  back  upon  Tredennis,  and  walked 
again  to  the  flag-staff,  against  which  he  leaned  in  thought, 
wrapped  in  his  cloak,  wliile  the  snow  drifted  ever  the 
deeper  over  camp  and  trenches,  and  on  the  rugged  back 
country  where  his  Majesty's  troops,  with  infinite  bad 
language,  torn  hands,  and  small  clothes,  bivouacked,  as 
they  waited  for  orders,  among  patches  of  bramble  and 
stunted  thorn. 

Tredennis  stepped  coolly  down  the  glacis  of  the  camp, 
440 


THE    CHIEF    SAVES    THE    CLAN 

scrambled  up  out  of  the  ditch,  and  stood  a  moment  on  the 
opposite  slope. 

"  You  have  given  me  my  liberty  and  five  minutes,"  he 
said ;  "  in  return  I  give  you  two  hours.  That  is  ample  time 
to  have  every  man  out  of  the  camp  and  in  safe  hiding 
beyond  Dee  Bridge.  After  that,  if  I  find  you  here — well, 
look  to  yourself.  Hector  Faa !" 

But  the  outlaw,  leaning  against  the  pole  of  the  Level- 
lers' flag,  his  watch  in  one  hand,  did  not  even  deign  to 
reply.  He  simply  motioned  Tredennis  contemptuously 
away  with  the  other. 

Left  to  himself.  Hector  Faa  stood  a  long  while  moodily 
musing,  revolving  what  dark  thoughts  we  may  imagine, 
but  cannot  know,  till  from  the  river-side  his  brother  came 
up  in  haste,  and  with  more  agitation  manifest  on  his 
countenance  than  was  customary  with  one  naturally  so 
sedate  and  reticent  of  emotion  as  Silver  Sand. 

"  These  poor  Leveller  lads  have  won  through,"  he  said, 
"  but  it  was  narrow  indeed.  The  last  of  them  had  to  hide 
while  a  patrol  passed  by.  The  dragoons  are  riding  all 
across  the  country.  The  infantry  on  the  Folds  ridge  may 
attack  at  any  moment.  If  you  want  to  escape,  or  get  the 
clan  clear  off,  it  must  be  at  once.  Their  ceasing  fire  was 
only  a  ruse.  Keep  such  men  by  you  as  you  can  rely  on  to 
the  death,  and  let  the  others  go.  With  half  a  dozen  you 
could  hold  the  soldiers  back  long  enough  to  let  the  rest 
reach  the  bridge.  Unless  you  do  that,  not  a  soul  will 
escape." 

Hector  laughed  a  low  and  scornful  laugh. 

"  And  you,  my  elder  brother,  so  full  of  excellent  advice, 
what  will  you  do  ?" 

"  I  will  stay  with  you." 

"  What  r"  cried  Hector  Faa,  suddenly,  "  you  would  not 
leave  me  like  the  others?" 

"  No,"  said  Silver  Sand,  calmly,  "  you  and  I  have 
441 


THE    DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

brought  the  clan  here  to  do  our  business.  It  is  your  busi- 
ness and  mine  to  get  them  away  in  safety — with  our  lives 
if  need  be !" 

Hector  Faa  went  over  and  took  his  brother's  right  hand 
in  both  of  his. 

"  After  all,  you  are  the  chief !"  he  said. 

And  the  outlaw  kissed  the  thick  ring  of  ancient  work- 
manship which  Silver  Sand  wore. 

"  Now  bid  the  clan  go,"  said  Silver  Sand,  assuming  the 
command ;  "  we  have  not  many  minutes." 

Hector  Faa  blew  his  silver  call  once  more,  and  at  the 
summons  the  men  came  tumbling  up  out  of  the  trenches 
and  in  from  the  outer  posts. 

"  Lads,"  said  Hector,  "  this  is  the  end — for  the  present, 
at  least.  Make  your  way  up  the  water-side  towards  the 
Dungeon.  Do  not  attempt  to  keep  together.  If  I  do 
not  follow  in  three  days,  lift  the  hearth-stone  of  the 
Shiel,  and  divide  fair  and  equally  all  you  find  there.  It 
is  yours.  Hector  Faa  will  be  dead,  for  he  will  not  be  taken 
alive.  Then  let  each  man  shift  for  himself.  Then  make 
for  different  seaport  towns  and  get  abroad  at  once.  Do 
not  tarry  by  the  way,  or  you  are  lost.  Good-bye — my 
brother !  I,  and  I  alone,  will  keep  them  back,  till  such 
time  as  you  shall  have  crossed  the  bridge.  You  have 
been  brave  lads,  and  true  to  the  blood  of  Egvpt.  Fare- 
well !" 

Then  Grice  Baillie  fell  down  before  him,  and  caught 
Hector  Faa  by  the  knees. 

"  Let  me  stay,  master,"  he  pleaded,  in  his  thick  utter- 
ance.   "  Send  the  others  away,  but  let  me  stay !" 

But  Hector,  having  set  his  hand  a  moment  kindly  on  the 
surly  man's  shoulder,  bade  him  join  his  companions,  in  a 
tone  that  brooked  no  questioning.  But  as  they  went  down 
the  road  Grice  looked  ever  back  over  his  shoulder,  and 
the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks. 

"  They  are  coming !"  said  Silver  Sand,  in  a  low  voice, 
442 


THE    CHIEF    SAVES   THE    CLAN 

peering  over  the  parapet  of  the  camp.    "  I  can  hear  them 
fixing  bayonets !" 

And  for  the  first  time  in  nearly  thirty  years  the  brothers 
shook  hands,  as  it  seemed,  almost  fiercely. 

When  Austin  Tredennis  went  down  the  glacis  of  the 
camp  in  the  Duchrae  bank,  he  never  thought  of  being  in 
that  hated  and  hateful  spot  again.  But  fate  ruled  other- 
wise. Before  the  final  darkness  of  that  long  October  night 
closed  in  he  had  come  back.      And  this  is  how  it  happened : 

He  marched  straight  to  the  top  of  the  little  hill  called 
Mount  Pleasant,  and,  crying  his  name  and  holding  up  his 
hands,  he  surrendered  there  to  the  sergeant  and  half  a 
dozen  men  who  held  it.  But  these,  having  no  knowledge 
of  Tredennis's  mission,  scoffed  at  the  idea  of  an  officer  in 
his  Majesty's  service  masquerading  in  the  guise  of  a 
cattle-drover.  That  is,  among  themselves,  for  there  was 
that  upon  Tredennis's  face  which  prevented  the  bravest 
man  of  them  from  choosing  that  day  to  take  a  liberty  with 
him. 

"  Who  commands  here  ?"  he  demanded  of  the  sergeant. 

"  General  Fitzgeorge,  sir,  in  person." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  Tredennis.  "  Well,  send  a  man 
with  me.  I  must  go  to  him  at  once.  I  have  information 
which  he  must  hear." 

The  sergeant  was  on  the  point  of  making  some  objec- 
tion, but  gave  way  before  Austin's  imperious  manner. 

The  general's  headquarters  were  in  the  little  farm- 
house of  Duchrae,  where,  while  his  staff  made  itself  as 
little  uncomfortable  as  possible  about  the  out-houses,  the 
general  had  already  succeeded  in  making  himself  agree- 
able to  the  pretty  housewife.  Mistress  Dickie,  wife  of 
Richard,  a  rank  Leveller,  presently  safe  in  hiding  among 
the  moss  hags  of  the  Orchar. 

"  Good  Lord !  what  have  we  here  ?"  cried  the  general, 
looking  up  in  astonishment  when  the  drover  presented 

443 


THE    DARK    0'    THE     MOON 

himself.  "  Tredennis,  by  gad !— ha,  ha!  Hey,  captain, 
you  are  certainly  not  tricked  out  to  take  the  eye  of  the 
ladies !" 

And  the  illustrious  general  indulged  in  a  burst  of  hearty 
laughter  at  the  appearance  of  his  former  aide-de-camp. 

"  Well,  what  news  do  you  bring  ?  Out  with  it !"  said  the 
general.  "  They  are  in  strongish  force,  I  hear.  And  the 
dogs  fight  rather  well.  I  have  not  heard  from  Collinson 
up  on  the  heights.  But  we  can  hear  his  old  bundles  of 
scrap-iron  thundering  away,  so  I  suppose  the  earth  is  fly- 
ing somewhere.    Where  do  you  come  from,  Tredennis  ?" 

Captain  Austin  looked  with  a  doubtful  air  at  little  Mis- 
tress Dickie,  who  was  busy  about  the  fireplace,  think- 
ing of  her  husband,  and  making  ready  the  general's 
supper. 

"  I  come  from  the  Levellers'  camp,  sir.  May  I  speak 
with  you  a  moment  alone?"  said  Tredennis,  gravely. 

"  Tut,  tut — no  necessity — no  necessity  that  I  see !"  said 
the  general,  getting  on  his  legs,  however,  and  leading  the 
way  into  the  lower  room,  where  several  young  officers  were 
playing  at  cards.  These  they  shuffled  hastily  together 
and  thrust  out  of  sight  as  the  general  entered. 

"  Get  out,  young  men !"  said  General  Fitzgeorge,  cour- 
teously. And  in  a  moment  Austin  and  he  were  alone  to- 
gether. 

"  Well,  quick  with  it !"  said  the  general.  "  What  have 
you  discovered?" 

"  I  have  a  communication  to  make  to  you.  General 
Fitzgeorge,"  said  Austin,  "  which  will  probably  cause 
you  to  put  me  under  arrest,  and  possibly  have  me  shot 
against  the  nearest  wall,  I  have  broken  my  oath  as  an 
officer,  and  do  not  deserve  to  be  a  moment  longer  a  soldier 
of  the  King !" 

"  Gad !"  said  the  general,  "  this  is  curious.  Most  of  us 
might  have  said  as  much  in  our  time.  But  hang  me  if 
we  would  run  to  our  general  with  the  news — no,  blood  me 

444 


THE    CHIEF    SAVES    THE    CLAN 

if  we  would  !     Well,  who's  the  woman  ?     What  ?     What  ? 
Out  with  it !" 

Then,  as  concisely  as  possible,  Tredennis  recounted  the 
whole  story  of  his  love  for  Marion,  his  double  breach  of 
duty  in  liberating  her  and  Joyce  Faa,  and  his  true  motives 
for  going  as  a  spy  to  the  camp.  He  told  him  how  through 
his  own  folly  he  had  been  trapped,  and,  finally,  that  before 
returning  he  had  arranged  and  carried  out  the  escape  of 
Marion  and  most  of  the  Levellers  from  the  camp. 

The  general  whistled  thoughtfully  while  Tredennis  was 
.speaking, 

"  And  so  you  wish  to  be  put  into  irons,  or  had  out 
against  a  wall  and  shot,  do  you?"  he  chuckled,  his  little 
gray  eyes  twinkling  from  an  acreage  of  red  face  as  he 
spoke. 

"  I  am  quite  willing  to  undergo  any  punishment  you 
may  think  necessary,  general,"  answered  the  captain  of 
horse. 

"  Much  good  that  would  do  the  young  woman — a  pretty 
one,  too,  as  ever  I  saw,  by  gad! — reminds  me  of  Lady 
Betty  Trippet — a  friend  of  mine,  ha !  Tredennis.  That 
was  what  I  was  trying  to  tell  her  when  you  were  so  con- 
foundedly hot  that  night  in  prison.  Well,  after  all,  I  like 
to  see  a  man  ready  to  go  to  the  devil  for  a  woman — yes, 
blood  me  if  I  don't!  Didn't  think  you  had  it  in  you, 
Tredennis,  I  didn't,  indeed!  What's  that — oh,  come  in, 
will  you?" 

It  was  Ensign  Gunter,  who  stood  in  the  door-way  of  the 
little  room. 

"  Oh,  general,"  he  cried,  breathlessly,  "  two  deserters 
who  have  Just  come  in  say  that  they  can  lead  us  right  into 
the  heart  of  the  camp  without  firing  a  shot,  but  that  the 
last  defences  will  be  a  hot  push.  They  are  held  not  by 
Levellers,  as  we  supposed,  but  by  the  wild  gypsies  from  the 
hills.  Hector  Faa  and  his  gang — outlaws  every  man,  who 
will  fight  to  the  death !    What  are  we  to  do,  sir  ?" 

445 


THE    DAKK    0'    THE    MOON 

"  Hum — hum  !"  said  the  general,  considering.  "  Now 
there  is  your  chance,  Tredennis !  Take  that  camp.  These 
fellows  will  show  you  the  way.  And  when  you  have  done 
it,  if  you  get  out  alive — why,  come  to  me.  I  shall  have 
something  in  my  pocket  for  you,  and — we  will  say  nothing 
more  about  the  little  affairs  of  the  heart  you  have  men- 
tioned to  me." 

For  in  certain  elements  of  generous  forgetfulness,  Gen- 
eral George  Fitzgeorge  could  be  entirely  regal. 

Hector  Faa  and  Silver  Sand  stood  together  and  looked 
over  their  armament.  They  had  six  or  seven  muskets,  be- 
sides nearly  as  many  pistols,  while  each  of  them  wore  a 
cutlass  and  sheath  -  knife.  Of  ammunition  there  was 
enough  and  to  spare. 

"  Do  you  take  the  right.  Hector,  with  the  three  best 
guns.  You  were  ever  the  marksman !"  said  Silver  Sand, 
as  calmly  as  though  he  had  been  arranging  the  field  for  a 
day's  shooting  on  the  moors.  "  I  will  guard  the  water- 
side with  two  muskets  and  the  pistols.  The  range  will  be 
shorter  there." 

And  the  younger  brother,  whose  word  had  been  law  in 
the  clan  for  thirty  years,  obeyed  his  senior  without  a 
murmur. 

There  was  an  uncanny  quietness  all  along  the  outer 
lines,  now  mostly  untenanted.  Over  the  long,  snowy  ridges 
to  the  south  not  a  gun  was  fired  from  the  enemy.  Even 
the  field-piece  from  the  hill-side  opposite  had  become 
dumb. 

Suddenly,  as  they  waited  in  a  tense  silence,  there  was 
heard  a  sound  as  of  some  one  thrusting  his  way  through 
the  thick  underbrush.  Hector  stood  up  in  an  attitude  of 
supreme  determination,  his  gun  to  his  shoulder.  His  eye 
was  already  glancing  along  the  barrel,  and  in  another 
moment  he  would  have  fired,  when  Silver  Sand,  from  his 
lower  post,  called  him  imperatively  to  stop.    It  was  Grice 

446 


THE    CHIEF    SAVES    THE    CLAN 

Baillie,  wild-ej-ed  and  panting,  who  stood  before  the  two 
last  defenders  of  the  camp  of  the  Levellers. 

"  The  Bridge-head  of  Dee  is  held,"  he  stammered.  "  I 
came  back  to  tell  you.  The  clan  is  turned.  A  full  score 
of  them  cannot  swim,  and  the  Black  Water  is  in  flood.  It 
will  take  half  an  hour  to  make  floats  of  drift  and  rushes 
— can  the  enemy  be  kept  back  so  long  ?" 

"  They  must  be  kept  back !"  said  Silver  Sand,  grimly, 
"  at  any  cost,  they  must  be  held.  The  chief  must  save 
the  clan.  It  is  our  family  law  and  gospel !  Happily, 
neither  you  nor  I  are  married  men.  Hector." 

Grice  stood  a  moment  uncertain,  licking  his  lips  and 
lingering  uncertainly.  His  eye  watched  furtively  for  that 
of  his  master,  like  a  dog  that  has  done  wrong  and  expects 
a  kick. 

At  last  he  seized  a  musket,  and  plumped  down  be- 
hind the  earthworks,  midway  between  Hector  and  Silver 
Sand. 

The  former  raised  himself  angrily,  and  ordered  Grice 
Baillie  back  to  the  others  who  were  making  their  escape. 

"  They  can  mak'  their  floats  withoot  me,"  said  Grice, 
sullenly,  "  and  mair  nor  that,  I  tell  you  plainly  now  that 
I  am  here,  here  I  bide !" 

Hector  turned  upon  him  with  his  gun  pointed  at  the 
man's  head. 

"  Go !"  he  thundered — "  go,  or  I  will  shoot  you  like  a 
dog !" 

"  Shoot  awa' !"  said  Grice,  and  never  budged.  Yet  he 
cowered,  nevertheless,  from  his  master's  angry  eye. 

"  Are  you  married,  Grice  ?"  asked  Silver  Sand,  quickly. 

"  ISTa,"  answered  Grice,  "  I  never  yet  saw  the  woman  I 
wad  mairry !" 

"  Then,  if  you  bide,  you  are  little  likely  to  see  her  now, 
Grice,"  replied  Silver  Sand.  "  We  three  are  all  bound  for 
the  other  world — Hell,  Purgatory,  or  Paradise,  within  the 
next  half -hour,  as  our  case  may  be  !" 

447 


THE    DARK    0'     THE     MOON 

"  Whilk  ever  ane  your  honors  please  !"  said  Grice  Baillie, 
indifl'erently,  and  tested  the  loading  of  his  piece,  listening 
carefully  to  the  thud  of  the  ramrod,  and  observing  how 
far  it  descended  in  the  barrel. 

"  I  have  not  found  so  great  faith — no,  not  in  Israel !" 
quoted  Silver  Sand,  with  much  solemnity.  "  Let  him  stay, 
Hector !" 

As  Silver  Sand  said,  they  had  not  long  to  wait.  From 
two  sides  the  soldiers  attacked  sharply,  and,  so  far  as 
musketry  was  concerned,  the  besieged  responded  with 
vigor.  The  bullets  buzzed  overhead  like  bumblebees, 
clipping  the  snow-laden  branches  or  burying  themselves 
in  the  ground  with  vicious  whisks.  The  light  had  grown 
somewhat  clearer  again,  and  the  assailants  were  often  quite 
distinct  on  the  white  ground  as  they  scudded  from  cover 
to  cover,  coming  ever  nearer  to  the  final  defences. 

Between  every  half-dozen  shots.  Silver  Sand  looked  at 
his  watch. 

"  Will  they  be  over  the  ford  by  now,  think  you,  Grice  ?" 

And  Grice,  intent  upon  his  musket  and  pistol,  would 
shake  his  head.  He  thought  not  yct.  It  was  cumbersome 
getting  so  many  across  a  river  in  flood. 

At  last  the  assailants  came  so  near  that  all  the  outer 
trenches  on  both  sides  were  in  their  hands.  From  the 
camp  itself  there  was  no  escape  possible  now,  but  they 
might  delay  the  rush  till  they  had  saved  the  fugitives. 

"  We  cannot  keep  it  up  very  much  longer!"  said  Hector. 
"  They  are  on  our  flank — on  our  rear — everywhere !" 

"  Grice  knows  how  long  it  will  take,"  said  Silver  Sand. 
"  Load  away !" 

And  with  fresh  energy  the  besieged  kept  up  their  end 
of  as  warm  an  engagement  as  ever  the  attacking  veterans 
of  King  George  had  experienced  in  J'landers. 

"  Surely  they  are  over  by  now !"  cried  Hector,  charging 
pieces  that  were  hot  to  the  muzzle. 

"There's  nae  mair  than  time  yet!"  responded  the  inex- 
448 


THE    CHIEF    SAVES    THE    CLAN 

orable  Grice,  taking  aim  at  an  officer  who  had  incautiously 
exposed  himself. 

Hotter  and  hotter  grew  the  fire  of  the  enemy.  Pres- 
ently the  besieged  experienced  their  first  casualty.  A 
bullet,  striking  first  on  a  stone,  hit  Silver  Sand  on  the 
left  side,  momentarily  stunning  him.  But  in  a  minute  he 
was  back  at  his  post  again. 

"  Surely  another  five  minutes  will  do  it  now,  Grice  ?"  he 
asked,  suppressing  a  groan. 

The  sullen  man  nodded. 

"  They  will  be  clear  by  that — ay,  every  man  o'  them !" 
he  acknowledged. 

"  Then  let  us  hold  the  place  for  five  minutes  more," 
said  Silver  Sand,  "  for  the  sake  of  the  women  and  bairns 
that  are  waiting  for  them !" 

Suddenly  Hector  Faa  cried  out  sharply. 

"  Here  they  come  !  Stand  fast !  I  see  their  bayonets 
at  the  charge  !    Good-bye,  John !" 

"  Good-bye,  brother — good-bye.  Hector !" 

It  was  the  first  time  the  outlaw  had  called  his  brother 
by  his  first  name  for  thirty  years.  There  was  no  one 
to  bid  Grice  Baillie  farewell;  but  that  silent  man  did 
not  expect  it.  He  only  hugged  his  piece  to  his  shoul- 
der, and  hoped  he  could,  as  he  expressed  it,  "  Get  yin 
first !" 

They  were  coming — yes,  coming  in  two  divisions,  over- 
whelming in  numbers,  in  courage,  in  energy.  On,  on ; 
over  the  wide-cleared  space,  crashing  through  the  brush, 
down  into  the  deep  trench,  up  the  face  of  the  slope,  men 
dropping  singly  in  the  ranks  as  the  muskets  of  the  de- 
fenders cracked.  Then  these  were  discarded,  and  they  fell 
to  with  the  pistols  at  short  range. 

"  Come  on  !"  cried  Austin  Tredennis,  fiercely.  "  There 
were  only  sixty  of  them  in  all !" 

There  were,  however,  somewhat  fewer  than  this  esti- 
mate. For  Grice,  the  dour  and  faithful,  had  dropped  for- 
29  449 


THE    DAEK    0'    THE    MOON 

ward  in  the  act  of  discharging  his  last  musket,  a  bullet 
through  his  forehead. 

Hector  Faa  fired  his  final  shot  at  Peter  Kelly  as  he  came 
up  the  glacis  with  Harry  Polwart  by  his  side.  The  blind 
gypsy  felt  his  guide  drop,  but  fell  on  his  old  chief,  sword 
in  hand,  with  a  fierce  shout  of  triumph. 

"  Ah,  Hector,  I  am  revenged !  I  have  you  at  last !"  he 
cried,  as  he  clutched  him  by  the  neck. 

"  Ah !  have  you  ?"  said  Hector,  grimly,  driving  a  knife 
deep  into  his  breast,  one  instant  l)efore  he  himself  went 
down  under  the  charge  of  a  dozen  bayonets. 

Silver  Sand  fronted  Tredennis  full  as,  sword  in  hand, 
he  sprang  up  the  slope  and  over  the  last  defence  of  earth 
and  felled  trees.  His  pistol  was  at  the  breast  of  his  as- 
sailant before  he  could  strike. 

But  he  checked  himself  in  the  very  pulling  of  the  trigger, 
recognizing  his  opponent. 

"  Pass,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  for  your  wife's  sake !  I  have 
none !" 

And  he  fell  forward  upon  his  face. 

The  chief  had  saved  the  clan! 


LVII 
ADDEND  AND  COMPLEMENT 

Letter  from  the  Lady  Marion  Tredennis,  wife  of  Major- 
General  Sir  Austin  Tredennis,  Governor  of  Prince  Ed- 
ward's Island,  Nova  Scotia,  New  Brunswick,  and  the 
various  English  Settlements  on  the  River  Saint  Lawrence, 
to  Mr.  Maxwell  Heron,  younger,  of  Orraland  and  Isle 
Rathan,  in  the  County  of  Galloway: 

"  My  Honored  Friend, — Indeed  it  will  be  a  disappoint- 
ment to  you  to  receive  no  more  than  this  from  me  in 
answer  to  your  detailed  and  very  accurate  history.  Austin 
has  read  it,  but  1  do  not  think  that  his  criticisms  and  ob- 
jections can  be  considered  either  pertinent  or  particularly 
valuable.  They  consist  chiefly  of  desires,  vigorously  ex- 
pressed in  the  military  manner,  that  you  should  excise  all 
references  to  himself  or  his  doings.  He  also  is  of  opinion 
that  it  is  not  dignified  to  represent  a  governor's  lady  as 
going  about  clad — in  fact,  he  objects  to  the  '  breeches 
parts' — moreover,  he  thinks  that  since  I  was  fortunate 
enough  to  be  included  in  the  general  amnesty  and  pardon 
proclaimed  by  government,  all  these  things  had  better  be 
forgotten.  However,  as  you  are  not  his  wife,  you  are  able 
to  please  yourself  in  these  matters. 

"I  think,  however,  that  you  ought  to  mention  that 
General  Fitzgeorge  was  most  kind  in  obtaining  a  free 
pardon  for  the  poor  fellows,  as  he  was  also  instrumental 
(through  his  personal  connection  with  the  King)  in  pro- 

451 


THE     DARK     0'     THE     MOON 

nioting  Austin  to  his  present  lucrative  post.  You  will  be 
glad  to  know  that  we  have  been  able  to  settle  the  families 
sent  out  (one  hundred  and  seventy  in  all)  on  the  newly 
annexed  lands,  and  that  most  of  them  appear  to  be  on  the 
high  road  to  comfort  and  a  moderate  fortune.  The  sole 
exceptions  have  been  the  gypsies  of  Hector  Faa's  band, 
who  have  mostly  wandered  off  south  into  the  New  England 
settlements,  where  they  have  taken  once  more  to  their 
natural  pursuits  of  cattle-dealing  (in  a  fairly  legitimate 
way),  tinkering,  fortune-telling,  and  horseshoeing. 

"  My  dear  love  to  Joyce  and  you  all.  I  am  very  happy 
here,  and  the  old  ill  time  seems  very  far  away  indeed.  I 
send  you  a  money-draft  of  a  hundred  pounds  for  my  father 
and  mother,  though  I  know  how  comfortable  and  happy 
they  are  with  you.  If  possible,  buy  them  a  strong,  quiet 
beast  that  will  carry  them  cantily  to  the  kirk  on  fine  Sun- 
days, and  my  father  to  the  market  whether  the  day  is  fine 
or  no. 

"  At  present,  farewell.  I  have  promised  to  meet  my 
husband,  who  is  out  shooting.  The  post-rider  goes  imme- 
diately— and,  at  any  rate,  I  would  not  for  the  world 
disappoint  Austin, 

"  Your  friend  and  servant, 
"  Marion  Tredennis." 

When  this  letter  arrived,  it  wrought  some  considerable 
commotion  in  our  little  family  in  the  old  Tower  of  Rathan. 
Joyce  had  to  take  boat,  and  go  over  immediately  to  the 
cottage  of  Eppie  and  Sammle  Tamson  to  tell  them  about 
their  daughter's  present,  as  well  as  to  show  the  epistle  of 
the  governor's  wife  to  my  father  and  mother  at  Orraland. 

Left  alone  with  my  contemned  manuscript,  I  did  not  find 
the  drastic  excisions  proposed  by  the  eminent  governor 
of  Prince  Edward's  Island  to  be  feasible.  So  Marion's 
part  must  remain  intact,  as  I  have  written  it,  breeches  and 
all.     But  presently  my  sister  Grisel,  wandering  in  and 

453 


ADDEND    AND    COMPLEMENT 

looking  over  the  last  chapters  in  her  usual  superior  and 
off-hand  manner,  offered  a  criticism  which  seemed  to  me 
far  more  to  the  point. 

"  It  is  easy  to  be  seen  that  you  are  a  man,"  she  re- 
marked, tossing  down  the  heavy  roll  of  paper  that  had 
been  so  far-travelled.  "  You  never  say  a  word  of  your 
bringing  Joyce  and  Marion  home  to  Eathan,  or  how 
everything  came  to  be  as  it  is  I" 

Having  delivered  herself  of  this  dictum,  Grisel  went  out 
to  render  Jasper  Jamie's  life  a  burden  to  him.  They  are 
to  be  married  as  soon  as  Jasper  enters  upon  his  appoint- 
ment under  his  Majesty's  Board  of  Customs,  where  (en- 
tirely through  influence)  he  will  presently  find  himself 
the  senior  and  official  chief  of  Mr.  Inspector  (late  Superin- 
tendent) Craig,  who  has  only  spent  his  entire  lifetime  in 
the  service. 

Now  I  cannot  take  Grisel's  very  off-hand  advice — for 
this,  among  other  weighty  reasons,  that  the  book  is  too 
long  already. 

Moreover,  after  I  have  written  of  the  end  of  the  oldest 
and  most  faithful  friend  of  our  house,  Silver  Sand,  I  do 
not  feel  that  I  can  speak  much  of  things  light  and  com- 
fortable. The  grass  is  green  again  on  the  Duchrae  bank, 
and  over  the  graves  which  hide  the  reunited  brothers  and 
the  stubborn  faithfulness  of  Grice  Baillie. 

Beneath  the  Grenoch  Lane  is  deep  and  silent  and  mys- 
terious as  ever,  and  the  nuts  have  many  times  formed  and 
ripened  and  been  gathered  upon  the  Hollan  Isle.  It  is  a 
place  where,  in  life,  Silver  Sand  loved  to  set  up  his  en- 
campment, and  now  that  he  is  dead,  I  cannot  think  that 
he  is  wholly  unconscious  of  the  fitness  of  his  resting- 
place. 

I  spoke  to  my  father  about  some  monument  to  him,  but 
he  did  not  encourage  the  idea. 

"  He  would  not  have  liked  it,  T  know,"  he  replied,  very 
thoughtfully,  "  and,  Maxwell,  what  end  would  it  serve  ? 

453 


THE    DAKK    0'     THE     MOON 

His  monument  is  here !  I  shall  never  be  the  same  man 
again !" 

And  as  he  spoke  he  laid  his  hand  upon  his  heart 

And  neither,  I  think,  has  he  ever  been,  for  Silver  Sand 
was  his  one  friend.  But  my  mother  is  bright  and  sprightly 
as  ever,  and  all,  save  the  sour-natured  and  the  ill-hearted 
(two  classes  not  wholly  unknown  in  Galloway)  speak  well 
of  her. 

And  Joyce — I  write  of  her  last.  For  I  know  she  will 
not  permit  me  to  say  much.  But  this  I  will  set  down,  that 
she  has  stood  the  greatest  tests  of  character — prosperity 
and  happiness  together. 

Fair  she  is  still  as  she  was  by  the  window  of  the  Dun- 
geon Shieling.  Perhaps  the  dark  curls  lie  a  trifle  smoother 
on  her  head.  There  is  a  more  matronly  graciousness  and 
housewifeliness — which,  indeed,  seems  to  enter  a  room 
along  with  her.  But  as  of  old,  in  the  deeps  of  her  glorious 
eyes  lie  hid  yet  greater  and  more  passionate  possibilities  of 
love,  unselfishness,  and  sacrifice. 


THE  END 


By  S.  R.  CROCKETT 


KIT  KENNEDY— COUNTRY  BOY.     Illustrated  by 
A.  I.  Keller. 

THE  RED  AXE.     A  Novel      Illustrated  by  Fkank 

Richards. 

Mr.  Crockett  can  always  be  depended  upon  for  a  good  story, 
and  his  many  admirers  will  not  be  disappointed  by  "  The  Red 
Axe,"  which  is  an  uncommonly  strong  novel  of  adventure. — 
Brooklyn  Standard -Union. 

LOCHINVAR.     A  Novel.     Illustrated  by  T.  dk  Thul- 

STRUP. 

Admirers  of  S.  R.  Crockett  will  find  occasion  for  neither  sur- 
prise nor  disappointment  in  his  new  story,  "Lochinvar."  It  is 
just  what  we  might  expect  of  him  after  the  assurance  his  other 
writings  have  given  of  the  stability  of  his  capacity  for  fine  roman- 
tic fiction.  He  gives  every  indication  that  he  is  in  the  plenitude 
of  his  powers  and  graces  as  a  constructionist  and  narrator. — 
Washington  Times, 

THE   GRAY   MAN.     A  Novel.     Illustrated  by  Sbt- 

MouR  Lucas,  R.A. 

A  strong  book,  .  .  .  masterly  in  its  portrayals  of  character  and 
historic  events. — Boston  Congregationalist. 

Post  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  60  per  volume. 


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